poet Paul Amrod

Paul Amrod

Inaccuracy Brings Fallacy

Confronting the unreasonable with propriety
for our Prez's popularity does quickly wean.
Spraying out recklessly his false optimism
off on a search for a contorted time machine.
Practicing promotion of a misdirected ostracism
excluding scientists while looking for a vaccine.
Made in America through his faulty cronyism
leaving all who criticize your blatant idiocy
as the qualified bystanders look on in dubiety.
Clutching to your power with sheer hypocrisy
dismantling our infrastructure with such impiety.
Illogic is reigning while you purge with feudalism
ousting competency within our fragile society,
who all suffer from a misuse of opiate codeine.
Like his new concept of speed as it twists and warps,
hectically ticking is the loss of a righteous sobriety.
Falsified are your predictions as Gates will subvene
many efficient laboratories to still the raising anxiety.
Devoid of sorrow while we witness another corpse
proceed to the next dimension as you show no remorse.
Ad libitum is your philosophy of opening up the states
presenting your sessions to hold on to your notoriety.
Firing the intelligence representatives which simply deviates
from rationale while your comrades you simply endorse.
You fumble through your advice and reject it will inaccuracy
causing a raucous and commotion producing a contrariety.
Heaven helps as all professors are whistling out the fallacy
as you trip over your words dismounting from your horse.
Your new pretty princess is a liar spewing her injustice
she an object of our imagination just a funny nullibiety.
You act like a boisterous bastard suffering from cowardice
destroying unification while dividing our feeble democracy.
Each of your followers is demising into a cavernous deep ravine
confused and mortified with a nonfunctional bureaucracy.
Disconcerting is the overly rampant march to morbidity
wishing for a change of events to revamp the old routine.
Instead we have no head nor tail as you possess no strategy
floating in outer space while the gremlins have a scheme.
Counseling you to avoid the truth to create a larger tragedy
questioning your motives, asking you if you have any self-esteem.
Running after your second term resolved in solemn subjectivity
engrossed in your autonomic lust reaching for a quixotic dream.
I wish you lots of luck foreshadowing your glorious success
while all artists and athletes wait for their peaches and cream.
It seems you require slumber as your drive your new activity
nonetheless you tweet incessantly spawning only distress.
Read the Laws of Einstein and jog at the speed of light
pursuing your warp in the search of some life and viability.
Perhaps you won't lose your toupé in the dark of night
finding your path home although we have horrible visibility.

Topic(s) of this poem: irony, political humor

Poem Submitted: Sunday, May 17, 2020
Poem Edited: Sunday, July 12, 2020

Form: Burlesque


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