My name is Donald Trump

 

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My name is Donald Trump,
I’m the leader of the band.
I piss, I fart, I shit – I jump.
Sure I know we are all grand.

I’m a man who thrives on basics.
All my hair carefully made.
See these hands forever laid.
Believe me hugher than a Phoenix.

I’m greater than they say,
You want to know my way?
Ever one to steal a deal,
you want to eat my meal?

Build em high, build em strong,
Motherfuckers, bastards, wrong.
Let us send them all back home,
Let us lock them in a SuperDome.

I know you’ll hear my strong decrees.
Let’s see, what only we can see.
Let’s call them out, those Holy Joes,
those PC pussies, I suppose.

We are the Warriors, the Warriors,
no worriers, no foreigners
No losers here.
Lend me your ear

We shall build the tallest tower.
Let’s be rid of all things sour.

Motherfuckers.
Let the judges fear our wrath.
What a shower of lazy suckers.
We will turn their children back.

I am the Lord of Every Deal.
This one deserves a damn good feel.
With me you win, never grow thin.
We’re so righteous, we’ll never sin.

I will make America great
I will make the whole world wait.
We shall be forever tall
when we build that fucking wall.

My name is Donald Trump,
I’m the leader of your band…

Diary note No 8 – Indoors

I’m staying indoors for another day. It’s drizzling damp outside. Again I’m missing my Wednesday morning golf.

My biggest concern is the dog. I won’t give him enough exercise today. If he could speak English, he’d surely complain.

Talking about Trump, talking about McCabe, having in an asynchronistic conversation with my friend Victorious in USA – that’s what I’ve been doing from my armchair.

That led me to contact my sister in Arizona via WhatsApp. I’d like to hear her views.

Thank goodness I’m interested in Brexit, and have Sky News. Political crises are good distractions from the state of my health.

I’m only good for recording audio and I’m dictating this straight into this post.

My especially good friend Eoghan O’Leary has offered to drop in and bring me something I’d like. I’ve asked for a small bunch of sweet black grapes.

The total eclipse of Donald John Trump (work in progress)

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He looked directly at the sun
and the sun shone back.
He felt the smile flood his Queen’s eyes,
stretch ruddy pink skin,
the slightest suggestion of dimples.

The sun god Ra rose from the bed
naked.
A fire in Ra’s eye raged,
falcon’s feathers flowing
in celebration.
This was the day.

This was no ordinary man
Voice of his people
taller than warriors
big in boots
staccato words
triumphant
bombast
Jamaican Infante.

The sun god’s cobra curled …