Ode to President Trump
Words from the undercurrents.
Bind our wrists
or so you insist
to pull us into your inky mist
with a limp tentacle
that twists back
and creeps a track
a systematic attack
on facts for spectacle
backbone-free and weak
your sharp jabbing beak
snaps weak when you speak
your soft shell inflexible.
Such slithers still echoing
the slipped-self unsettling
appendage measuring
to assert your magnificence
but we spot the detail
as you flail
pale against the shale
screaming for dominance
underhand and overplayed
claims left unrepaid
sentence stayed
your branding is impotence.
Floundering hectic
siphoning worthless rhetoric
through static
as vulgar as we know
this is a show
no retracting
yet oscillating
a mollusc in waiting
you dragged your seat below
you’ve got to go.
About the Creator
Seb Reilly
Writer, fiction author and occasional musician.
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