Just yesterday, a predecessor framed:
Trump tried the notion that his phone was tapped.
His finances are secret yet, for shame,
But not his crackpot slander via app.
Obama’s standard-bearer shouted, “False!”
Trump’s aides denied concurrence with his claim.
And, wielding typo-riddled tweets, Trump waltzed
Right on, to make a federal case—insane!
The waxing gyre of fake news cycles spins,
He lobs new propositions sans citation,
Dismisses press with that “You’re fired!” and grins—
The unreality show that is our nation!
And though tweets are not yet state’s evidence,
His fabricated lies spread pestilence.
— OS, NN, JD
Who is this man? Unfurling new regard
Before a nation’s disbelieving ears–
Rendered alert, prepared for verbal carnage,
Awaiting fearsome words best left unheard.
What new falsehoods, descending rung by rung,
Can top a year of false flags and swornlies?
What more, from confidence’s silver tongue,
Can hide behind a businessman’s disguise?
The next day’s news suggests parties deceived,
Or just confused–by bluffing’s bard outbluffed.
Left in the aftermath–what to believe?
Will temporary phrases be enough?
Still, it takes an expert rhetorician
To make conciliation raise suspicion.
His trumpet tweets: the judges’ transgressions!
My noise will live beyond this courtly cadence!
Repeated notes in all the same progressions:
Insults—fake news—the Wall—terrorists—Pence!
The judges’ cymbals clang against this canon,
Whose harsh beat tries again to split and banish;
Injunctions clap down, halting citizens’ panic,
As workers, migrants, students cease to vanish.
Through atonal commotion drums new thunder
Distracting from the belting trumpet’s croons,
The sounds of marching feet respond to blunders,
Demanding different rhythms, different tunes.
The audience, distressed, hears from these marchers,
Freedom’s music, and harmony’s departure.
—LDS, PTL, ERP