I don’t normally write poetry. But desperate times call for desperate measures.
So, for what it’s worth, here is my poem for Trump, written in Spring 2018:
My Robin Hood Costume Is an Incredible Winner*
O, let America be Great again.
Like it was when Andy Jackson ruled the roost and people knew their place (or were shown it).
Like it was when Vanderbilt (“What do I care about the law. Ain’t I got the power?”)** and Gould (“I can hire one half of the working class to kill the other half”)*** were doing Great Business.
Like it was when Montana copper king (and king of worker exploitation, environmental degradation and bribery; “I never bought a man who wasn’t for sale”)**** William Clark bought his Senate seat.
Like it was when such Real Men, Men of Fortitude, took risks and leveraged power to gain great wealth and build the Nation in their image.
I am the Inheritor of that glorious chain.
Of deceive, extort, lie – of make a killing!
Of respect nothing but power and cash.
Of laundered money and hush money.
Of corrupt everything for one’s own brand.
Of dare do all that does not become a man.
But I am Greater still. I am also the Grand Illusionist.
I masquerade as Robin Hood – champion of the Saxon peasantry; enemy of the corrupt, elite nobles. A law unto myself.
A Robber Baron dressed as Robin Hood.
A Robber Baron shouting, “Drain the Swamp.”
What chutzpah! What balls! What great TV!
And I’ve polished up that act so carefully,
That now I am the ruler of whole country.
And I act to let America be the dream of the White Men who tamed this land,
And to make real the dream the old Robber Barons only dreamed.
I sign Laws and Orders to put America First again.
America First, especially we rich. Slash our taxes, then the safety net. Real Men don’t have safety nets (except for the limited liability and bankruptcy laws).
America First, especially its corporations. Great citizens. They don’t get sick or complain. And they create legal duties that bless our greed. Love ʹem.
America First, with special attention to its unschooled whites yearning to be sucked up to. Pawns in my game.
America First, but not its poor and sick. I don’t see poverty or illness. I see weakness begging to be exploited.
America First, but not its women. They’ve always been great just as they are – great to grope.
America First, but not strangers who just arrived from shitholes. Send them back to their huts (unless they’re models).
America First, but not its earth, air and water. When the seas rise, floods flood and communities drown, throw them some Bounty.
America First, regardless of the truth. My attitude is all the truth that matters.
America First, but not anyone who dares challenge my masquerade. Lock ʹem up.
America First, but not its inconvenient laws or its crooked Justice Department. I’ll pardon me, if need be, to make America Great Again.
America First, but not as to Putin — another Real Man. And don’t talk to me about election meddling. That’s what elections are for. Ever hear of gerrymandering? Great tradition.
American First, especially my brand: Mammon.
My classy Mammon.
I’d walk a million miles
For one of your smiles,
My dear Mammon.
* The poem is indebted to “Let America Be America Again,” by Langston Hughes, and contains references to or from “Macbeth” by William Shakespeare, “Pawns in Their Game” by Bob Dylan, “The First Lord’s Song” by Gilbert & Sullivan, and “My Mammy,” lyrics by Joe Young and Sam M. Lewis.