The Orange Predator
I think that this poet never shall see
a predator foul and so smarmy as he.
His fowlish predation is ever so sweet,
he can grope any chick without moving his feet
which, along with his hands, are really quite tiny.
His brain is so small and his mouth is so swiney.
With faked indignation he tries to deny,
though he sees little need for a gal to comply,
or so he told Stern on Stern's radio show,
boasting to Howard like some horny crow.
"I can do what I want because I'm so famous
and handsome and charming and rich and
smart and huge and did I say very very rich and
very very handsome and just very very,"
(laughing Ivanka sits tall by his side,
enabling her father, the snide ignoramus).
Orange refining the meaning of smarmy.
Orange re-whining out lies to his army.
He steps like a goose and cuts down the tall trees,
honking and hinking and fouling the breeze
His lily-white shit that he dumps on the ground
is for Conway to gather and sell by the pound.
But this poet finds peace in the presence of trees,
even the trees that can cause him to sneeze,
and a walk in the forest does help him recoup
the hope and belief that the foul orange dupe
will goose-step and shit such a large smelly mass
that Congress will finally impeach his (not so) small ass.
poems are fashioned by fools like me,
but no one can help the brand new GOP.
by Michael Coolen
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When Michael Coolen was born, he swears he heard Thus Spake Zarathustra blasting in the delivery room. His father said he didn't cry when he arrived. He sang "sounding just a teeny like an opera by Bellini." In addition to published writings, Michael is also a published composer with works performed around the world, including Carnegie Hall, MoMA, and the Christie Gallery... without having to rent any of them himself.