Our country’s been hacked, and they’re blaming a Russian:
the one over whom I am normally gushin’.
It’s Putin, who sometimes I’ve met with in small rooms.
I’ve yet to condemn him; my silence speaks volumes.
I’m helpless against any cyberattack,
where these hackers come in through a… door in the back?
Seems to me we could just scare them off with a floodlight.
(As far as technology goes – I’m a Luddite.)
The details are sketchy; there’s still some confusion
regarding the scope of this cyber-intrusion.
And although Pompeo has pointed a finger,
accusing the Russians – in my mind, doubts linger.
It turns out our networks were not that secure,
but I can’t believe Putin’s the provocateur.
An assumption means we do not know for a fact; this
could be that 400-pound kid, from his mattress.
What we fear the most might occur now: if this’ll
let bad actors fire off a nuclear missile.
And yet my response has been notably lacking,
regarding disruption from this cyber-hacking.
It’s long been asserted I’m in Putin’s thrall;
I’m a puppet the Russians took steps to install.
If Putin’s behind this, it seems I should scold him –
but he can’t steal secrets I’ve already told him.
The Trump Poems 