AFFAIRS OF STATE: 23 MAY 2025
It’s our anniversary, the thirty-fourth year
Our love’s as enormous as our country is drear:
For Trump’s newest show is Reality-TV,
And the world’s his contestants for Maggots to see:
He sits in his set where his fools and his gold
surround him, like Brando, in a film very old;
His press stands before him, their questions unheard
For seldom he speaks an encouraging word,
But swears that the world is all black and all blues,
‘Cause he’s the Original Voice of Fake News,
He chastises statesmen and Presidents too,
‘Cause that’s what Reality-TV bosses do:
It’s none of it real, though; it’s all of it planned,
With Rubio and Vance and the rest, all unmanned,
While showing support for the King of Misrule,
(Another grand name for a blubbering Fool.)
The show’s greatest plot is its vocal Invention,
The show’s greatest thrust is its evil Intention,
“Zelenskyy’s a dictator, Putin’s the chastest,
South African’s Prez is a conman and racist!”
“And each Palestinian by nature’s a killer,
—I know ‘cause I talk every day to Steve Miller,
And Kristie! (who knows habeus from corpus,
Like I know a whale’s like a porpus),”
We watch Goldy Don, and his flatt’ring Lieutenantses,
While off-camera actions pronounce newer sentences:
“Down with all medical care for the poor,
Down with the courts, for the law is a whore;
Down with the foods that can rid all starvation,
Up with the bucks for my fat-cat’s salvation!
“Wipe off that stuff that makes young people stinking
Like books about others, and “critical thinking,”
“Remove from our colleges stuff that makes new dents,
Like science, and international students!”
“From guns, add silencers, and repeaters to trig-words
Give white folk the chance to shoot all thieving n-words.””
“Send brown folk and black folk to prisons away
So White Christians in fields of the Lord can make hay.”
(“Unless you would play with yourself, like my Elon,
And give bottled seed to both feline and felon.”)
As Trump in the past his adventures went broke,
He blames all the present on worlds turning woke;
He’s bankrupted businesses, lost his casinos,
Now turns to the world to play new Mussolinos.
Each day is a new day to spurn our democracy,
And find newer rules for autocracy:
While Forgetting the song
inevitably sung:
No matter his ‘rights,’
Mussolini was hung.
Attend: I wish no man’s death,
but Iong for revision,
where Trump and his cabinet
fly with precision
to Mars, all in Teslas,
Without a collision.
(Which means that they’ve missed the planet’s orb:
Fly on, Fly on, O Ship of State
Until You’ve Reached Some Pearly Gate,
“Oh, Whatthehell, We’re—I’m—Me alone, I’m better late…”
( —-NASA’s overseen, and always, bumpity Trumpian gait…)
