Thumped Poem by gershon hepner

Rejected by so many, thwacked with a thump,
and by the electorate darn nearly dumped,
diminished in polls by majority vote,
deep-sixed in a creek where your shit doesn’t float,
don’t panic or think your career is now finished
though your reputation is clearly diminished.
Though round you there only is glumness on faces,
remember that not to the quick are the races,
but rather to those who’ve appointed the judges
who’ll come to your rescue not bearing deep grudges
like most of the media and liberal reporters
who’re running against you like hare against tortoise,
and even if your speech is more herky-jerky
than usual you won’t be the Thanksgiving turkey,
for judges will save you as they did in Florida,
rewriting elections like scripts by Jacques Derrida,
and if sadly recounts don’t work on this earth
they should do in heaven, where you’ll have rebirth,
like all good Republican Judeo-Christians.
The answer is Jesus. Ignore all the questions.
The ones who aren’t reborn will not hang their drapes
in heaven, so start serving them sour grapes.