At yet another reporter’s behest,
Trump, yet again, is unsure what to do.
And while a curious reporter requests,
Veep realizes the President’s mistake—phew!
It’s evident on tape: order remains.
What would his reply be?  “I had no pen”?
Would Trump find blame for Democrats, again?
Or will “fake news media” be to blame?
What else will bungling White House acts not do?
That story about the wiretap is phony.
Don’t deny it, climate change is real, bro.
Chlorpyrifos is dangerous, Scotty.
Someone needs to start listening to facts,
Otherwise, there’ll be no turning back.


First, dispute the undeniable, despite
Embarrassment. Then, claim to know of plots—
Some predecessor’s subterfuge of spite.
No evidence required—just take your shots.
You’ll soar above the petty, trivial fights
If you just peck, and tweet, and use your beak
To comment on the latest TV slights,
The failures of the press (those losers). Weak!
They say that centering yourself is best
For managing the people in your orbit—
Stay centered on yourself. Keep out the rest,
Especially the refugees. That’s it!
And if these measures don’t increase your power,
Just fly away!  Just not to your bugged tower.


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 sworn lies?
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.


The Truth: where does it live now? Twitter? Press?
Can it make “FAKE NEWS” from “illegal leaks
(Which must be true to be illegal)? Stress
Is making Logic, friend to Truth, feel weak.
Next step: to make America so great
Again that we can all be in the room
With Truth, instead of only those who hate
Our immigrants, but hum a Russian tune.
And now we hear the president will skip
The rubber-chicken roast that counts as dinner
For journalists who love a winning quip
That wields the facts against their favorite “winner.”
Trump won’t attend their party–too uncouth;
He’s fairly safe from Humor, with his Truth.


Motifs repeat in half tones condescending
Throughout his fugue of minor dissonance.
Progressions backward move against consent,
All harmony trumped by vain cryptograms.
Trumpet comes barging into string quartets
Brass speaks loud, overpowering melodies,
Repeat repeat repeat—the score’s upset
By one cadenza played for parody.
False notes abroad, the world’s his symphony
Improvisation on the spot, untrue
But nothing new, no ingenuity,
Just history, made to sound a note more blue.
This tragic movement plays on without end
And who can tell what coda it portends?


Inherited a mess,” Trump says, for lack
Of competent administrations past.
Unmerited, on press Trump lays attacks,
For pointing out the mess of actions fast.
To question after question, Trump retorted
That he won votes, or doesn’t trust bad news,
And when the facts were to his face reported,
He blamed his staff, who gave him stuff to use.
This “finely tuned machine” has now been blocked
By courts, the voters, and internal leaks.
From “fine” (but fired) Flynn to borders locked,
From this “drained swamp,” an old corruption reeks.
And though the White House never makes mistakes,
From it, the leaks are real, but news is fake.
— OS, NN, JD


Words of fear and treason news is peddling;
They build on rumors, leaks, and campaign dirt.
The TV blares—it’s nonstop Russian meddling!—
Yet misdirection seeks to disconcert.
How can one month turn government to lies,
Make all news “fake” and all talk indignation?
Yet this administration’s foreign ties
Somehow still elude investigation!
Haunted by Flynn’s ghost and dossiers,
Trump’s odds seem slim, yet all is wait;
History repeats itself, they say;
Can Trump survive much worse than Watergate?
Though it’s our country that this man mishandles,
Still his mouth outruns his actions’ scandals.


Trump twists the truth through his treacherous tweets.
The howls of fallacy and stunned insult
Suffuse the airwaves, hiding his defeats,
Fears of tyranny his only result.
He falsifies the facts and swears the false
Until what’s fake is news and news is fake,
And branded fabricator by default,
He finds that lies, too, cover his mistakes.
Long backed by Cuban, cabinet’s worst delay,
Peak murder rates, and no unfriendly polls;
Clinton endorser, past crews also stayed,
Rates far from record, polls under control.
To all: seek truth beyond his looking-glass,
Lest Trump’s reflections dim our light with gas.


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.