Nothing to do With Trump

Don’t want to be played like his Trumpet
Blowing Taps for equality
Or Tapping to his tune

Don’t want to be controlled as his puppet
Hanging by his string
While choking on his lies

Don’t want to be stored in his cabinet
Sitting in the dark
Waiting to be thrown away

Don’t want to be his red carpet
So, he can walk all over me

Don’t want to be his drop in the Bucket
To get dumped right down the drain

Don’t want to be his endangered planet
Because I could never be true

Don’t want to be his budget
Then the USA would starve

Don’t want to be his pocket
Ewww, his nasty hands in me

Hoping he’ll just plummet
From his narcissistic ways

Maybe I could be a Rocket
Then take him to the moon

Yes, I’m trying to see this as a poet
But his whole Trumped up presidency
Just does not make any sense,

To me….

Patsy, 2017

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