Donald Trump Attempts to Write His Own Inaugural Poem: a satire

Greetings, Friends (And Enemies. Lots of enemies! Hugely enemies!)
This great day we now celebrate
Might seem to many, not so great
So let us first consider those
Educated prior to Secretary DeVos
Those harridans who wish their hair
Could grow like that of Melania the Fair
For tyrants whose ill-gotten power
Probably came from their ill-gotten birth certificates.

Wait. You mean I have to keep rhyming? Oh, all right. If I can use my favorite words.

My hot, hotter, hottest daughter Ivanka
Will never wind up in Lubyanka
Because she deserves
All the Federal Reserves
And still manages to cook a mean lasagna.

Whaddya mean that’s not long enough? No one reads anymore. Can we try a YouTube channel for this? OK, OK. . .

O POTUS! my POTUS! our fearful trip is done;
The ship of state has weather’d every rack, the prize of office we sought is won;
The White House is near, the bells I hear, the people all exulting,
While follow eyes the steady keel, the vessel grim and daring:
But O boutonniere! Boutonniere! Boutonniere!
O the falling petals of red,
Where on the deck my POTUS lies,
His hair voluminous and also red.

Change that line; I never lie. And why do you keep saying it has to “scan?” I’ve already scanned it! Print it out already! All right. What about this?

Pretty women wonder where my secret lies.
I’m not cute or built to suit a fashion model’s size
But when I start to tell them,
They think I’m telling lies.
I say,
It’s in the reach of my arms
To the span of your hips,
The stride of my step,
Towards the curl of your lips.
You’re a woman
Phenomenal women,
They’re for me.

You want something original? What about my limerick? This is getting tedious. I have tweets to write.

I have taken
the office
that was
the greatest in the world
and which
you were probably
would remain so
And made our country
a complete laughing stock
I am the winner.

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