Trigger Warning
Words drop, disconnect and die
as the babbling blather breaks.
He looks at the teleprompter and claps,
hands moving without control.
He dances to the Russian program
that has created him; he’s Misandroid.
Deep down in the darkness, Misandroid
hears huge, icy-black walls crack and die.
Gag orders crash against his program.
Screams morph into laughter that breaks,
digging downward. Dead votes will control
election 2024, and he claps.
In T Tower’s nethermost reaches, he claps
while his bloodied body naps. Misandroid
drops it into a gold-plated crypt banks control.
Waves of funny Franklins float down. Banks die
laughing; fake cash floods his golf courses, breaks
through his hotels and crashes the MAGA program.
Misandroid never had a MAGA program.
His bloated, humanoid body only responds to claps.
Misandroid tweets, hoping his red cap sale breaks
America’s demons, casting them out. Misandroid
is not human; he’s a fake; can he die?
America pushes against his lawless control.
In the New York courtroom, he scoffs at any control
the judge urges and follows his own program.
Some of his lawyers leave him. Will he die
in jail? No! 2024 will be his Second Coming. He claps.
God knows he’s smarter than Jesus; he’s Misandroid,
with an IQ that’s huge. He follows his gut and breaks
open crises in courts around America. As war breaks
out in Ukraine, Misandroid’s pal, Putin, wants control.
There would be no war between Russia and Ukraine if Misandroid
had won in 2020. Putin’s empire dream would be Misandroid’s program.
Gaza will be gone if Israel uses his final solution. He claps.
His speech slurs. But he’s the healthiest president ever. He won’t die.
Truth Social breaks as Misandroid fights like hell for his harmful program.
He wakes up alone and loses control. A tweet flutters. Nothing claps.
A metal door slams. Misandroid is in a jail cell, where he might die.