Trump racist


Hello, Mr. Trumpster,
Your feelings are bare.
They come from the dumpster;
You don’t really care.
 
You’re his’try reveals you;
Your ugly thoughts stain.
They’re not red, white and blue;
They infect your brain.
 
Your poppa was Klan-bait;
Redlines did he draw.
He taught you the word, “Hate”;
It became your law.
 
With this training begun --
A fact you would hide –
You were Satan’s stepson,
Marched on, side by side.
 
You redlined apartments --
Paid court costs instead –
“Let the Niggers pitch tens,”
You seemed to have said.
 
Central Park Five haunts you;
You know you were wrong.
You followed the wrong clue;
You sing the same song.
 
Once, in your casino,
You said with chagrin:
Get rid of that Negro;
How else can I win?”
 
You lied and you cheated;
You’d take ‘em to court.
Cold cash, overheated,
You had the case bought.
 
You hired without papers;
Grossly underpaid’
Then feigned the old vapors;
And, “Who me?” signs made.
 
Respect for the distaff,
You never possessed.
Your manners were pure chaff,
And quite sex-obsessed.
 
Your predecessor’s birth

You doubted, you say.
Was it his color earth –
Perhaps, new-mown hay?
 
With all of this baggage,
You made your big run,
Ignoring the adage,
“It ain’t all just fun.”
 
You purchased your first crowd
And slid down the stair;
Announced to all, out loud:
Mex rapists, beware!’
 
You said to the Muslims,
“Enough! Y’all stay home.
“Your presence, the sun dims;
“Go, ‘Rock’ that big ‘Dome’.”
 
A judge, quite the Yankee
You dubbed, “Latin man.”
He forwent the hanky;
You darkened your tan.
 
A Senator heroA Senator hero,
You saw fit to trash.
A draft-dodger zero,
You dared him to bash.
 
All of your opponents
You sought to demean.
Be they ladies or gents,
Your jibes were not clean.
 
When Nazis-Klans night-marched,
The fact fazed you not.
You became a well starched,
Poor, racist robot.
 
Some athletes take one knee,
Not against the flag.
Their protest you don’t see;
You curse them, you nag.
 
The pity, dear Prez, is
You us uplift not.
You see, this ain’t showbiz;
You ain’t smokin’ pot.
 
Those of us here, earthbound,
Are naught but mere folks.
Our origins redound
To all but crass jokes.
 
You put down dark nations
Outhouse refuse they.
Norwegians, not Haitians,
Best for USA.
 
Pols, shameless, seek cover,
Thinking of the polls.
One day, they’ll discover
They have lost their souls
 
America, right now,
Despite its rough past,
To each one does allow
Redemption, at last.
 
Come, Donald, get aboard,
dragging your foot.
This ride, all can afford:
Freedom, free of soot.
 
Come, jettison your hate.
Let’s all raise the flag;
Let’s make us truly great –
Redemption’s in the bag!

Curtis W. Long

Curtis W. Long

This email address is being protected from spambots. You need JavaScript enabled to view it.
Recent Articles
‘Danny Boy” In Spanish
LITTLEFIELD CHALLENGED THE BIG FIELD BOYS
ABE HELPED TO LIFT EVERY VOICE
TOMMY’S TABLEAUS SALUTES LOS ANGELES
BRITS NEED BREXIT EXPERT: HENRY VIII
KENNEDYS PROVIDE A CLUE TO OUR RACIAL DIVIDE