FAKE TAN: A poem about Donald Trump

There was a man who loved fake tan, an orange lout, American...

Photo by charlesdeluvio on Unsplash

There was a man who loved fake tan,
An orange lout, American.
He thought he was the coolest dude,
Stomping around and being rude.

He had a penchant for the glitz 
He loved to brag about being rich.
He had no scruples, only vice,
Seriously, he wasn’t nice.

This playground bully, overgrown,
Expressed himself in whiny tones,
“It isn’t fair, it isn’t right,
I’ll beat you up, put up a fight.”

His tactics won him sycophants,
Who hung around him as though entranced.
Whose dirty laundry might be aired,
If one of them stuck out his head?

Somehow this orange sicko won
The biggest prize, the election!
The whole world gasped, what’s going on?
We’d counted on the other one!

We didn’t like this loony goon,
This orange oaf, this bad cartoon.
We had enough crap on our plate
Without that pussy-grabbing mate.

We muddled through, we had no choice,
We put up with that whiny voice.
And when he finally had to leave
The dude refused to disappear!

He hung around with his fake tan,
This grumpy sulky little man,
Embroiled in endless legal scams,
Waggling his tiny sausage hands.

And then E. Jean stood up real tall,
She made that orange man feel small.
She held her ground, she never caved,
I’d say that woman’s really brave.

Then Stormy Daniels put up her hand, 
Said that she too would take the stand.
Cue lurid tales, yuck Playboy moves,
Financial deals no one approves.

The jury woke the randy goon,
From his long nap in the courtroom,
They found him guilty on many counts,
That orange poop no longer bounced!

So, let’s give it up for two brave ladies,
Who stood up to that orange crazy.
He must be feeling really cross,
That whiny, bumbling albatross.