Nine votes found in a garbage can.
I’m outlawing the Ku Klux Klan.
With William Barr my hatchet man,
I’ll triumph in November.
Let’s rush to put a justice in
so she can guarantee my win.
The Dems are screwed, to their chagrin.
Democracy dismembered.
The FBI says there’s no fraud:
Chris Wray’s opinion sure is flawed.
Just how am I perceived abroad?
I’m loved by none but Putin.
There’s needles poked in Biden’s ass.
“Trump says some crazy stuff,” says Sasse.
Joe’s been endorsed by ex-top brass;
for me they are not rootin’.
Deaths passed two-hundred thousand mark.
My bite is much worse than my bark.
My universe’s moral arc
bends far away from justice.
While polls still show that I’m behind,
some still are making up their mind.
Concession speech? I’m not inclined.
Joe’s teeth? I’ll make him gnash his.
So – if I lose or there’s a draw,
I may choose to sidestep the law.
He laughs best who has last guffaw:
No joke, folks – I’m a fascist.
The Trump Poems 