It was Mark Twain who said, “When in doubt, tell the truth.”
But what does that scamp know? He’s dead.
Compared to his wit, my behavior’s uncouth –
so, I’d rather recount lies instead.
Doctors make profits from death count inflation.
Covid? That corner’s been rounded.
The basement is Joe Biden’s favorite location.
I offer assertions unfounded.
Hundreds of thousands of votes come from cheating.
Lots of new wall at the border.
Vaccines are coming, I keep on entreating.
I tweet in all caps, “LAW & ORDER!”
Children learn hate when it comes to our history.
Alliances? I will betray them.
Tax situation’s no longer a mystery;
for many years, I didn’t pay them.
Election integrity I will impugn,
yet my rallies have caused super-spreading.
If you vote for Biden, you’ll find out there’ll soon
be no Christmas, no Easter, no weddings.
In this campaign, just a few days remain
to assert claims increasingly specious.
Through all of my lies, there is one truth that’s plain:
Twain would surely – for once – be left speechless.
The Trump Poems 