Trump, In Verse

You say what I don’t want to hear? Then you’ll be fired; not if, but when.
Tell lies to take the heat off me? You’re moved to a more cozy pen.
Ask questions I don’t want to answer? You’ll be kicked out of the pool.
You uttered “DEI” aloud? Then we’ll pull funding from your school.

Don’t ever disagree with me – no matter just how much I’m wrong.
Report results that undercut me? Sayonara… ciào… so long.
Refuse to kiss my wrinkly ass? I’ll double down and never budge.
Say “Fuck you” to unfriendly courts? Then you’re appointed as a judge.

Accuse me of a crime so vile that others would be tarred and feathered,
I’ll just dodge and weave and hope the scandal’s one that can be weathered.
I’ll create diversions through the use of mirrors and some smoke,
latching onto fallacies that I can stir up and provoke.

Weekends are for golf – my role as President left in absentia.
Every week – more evidence I’m showing symptoms of dementia.
Polls show I am cratering, and yet – I’m claiming the reverse.
One day, perhaps, things will improve – but not before they get much worse.