Election day — so it begins. One last, hopefully last, poem about Trump, his lies and conspiracy rants, and his self-fulfilling profits.
Taking, Their Q
They took their Q
From a toxic waste dump
Of conspiracy theories
Truth bastardized and orphaned
Beyond the pail of the retched
Awe the wile
Taking
Their Q cards
From invalid facts
Props
Helled up
Buy the flimsiest of crutches
As if
Some motherless chides
Or if
In power some day
Pigs flying
With all their knew shit
