Syndic No. 17
Syndic Literary Journal

Resistance! Robert Cooperman (3)

Resistance!  ∼  Robert Cooperman

 

Trump and the Hurricane, I

You know that scene where the Mouse

Apprentice makes the waters rise?

I did the same to Houston.  Fantastic,

wasn’t it?  The greatest hurricane in history.

 

They should’ve named it for me, but picked

Harvey.  Harvey?  Hurricanes should be called

something magnificent, like “The Donald.” 

A real ring to it, right?  They could be named,

“The Donald I, the Donald II,” and so on. 

Accurate enough for these scientists’ phony

statistics about the world warming up.

Fake news, like everything those haters spew. 

 

But now I’ve got to pretend I’m all sad

for the people of Corpus Christi, who, yes,

did vote for me, so my tears won’t be too phony,

though I’ll be happy to get back to Trump Tower

or that dump they call the White House.

 

But I’ll be damned if I’ll visit Houston

with all its Democrats who hate me worse

than I do a slice of cake with one measly scoop

of ice cream.  Let them all drown, especially

the Hispanics: rapists, drug fiends, and murderers.

 

I bet you think I’ll tell you how I made the waters rise

like when Noah had to build the Ark.  Great magicians

have our trade secrets, so don’t ask again.

 

 

Trump and the Hurricane, II

Melania’s so beautiful

she’s got to cheer up these losers

that look like half-drowned rats. 

 

Look at her jacket, slacks, and stilettoes,

like when she cat-stalks for me at night,

after I’ve popped an invigorating pill,

her in those stilettoes and a teddy

and that’s it.  Man, nothing gets me going

like that glimpse of her furry heaven!

 

But now the lying media’s criticizing her

for dressing up to visit a disaster area.

I’ll tell you what’s a disaster: Democrats

and the leftwing media that won’t shut up

about me.  Even the president’s got a right

to make an honest living:

What we call the free enterprise system.

 

But back to Melania.  Not wanting more flack,

she changed into sneakers and a white shirt

before we landed, so why all the bellyaching? 

Because the press hates me for proving they’re idiots.

 

Next time we’re alone, I’ll have her wear

just that bomber jacket, unzipped to her navel,

and those sexy stilettos.  That’s how you govern!

 

    

 

 

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Syndic No. 17
December 2017
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