Are you dying, Mr. President?
Or is it all fake news?
If you're dying, and it is evident,
Will you accept it's true?
Are you are dying, Mr. President?
We know you hate to lose!
For in lying you are redolent;
Is it a thing you'd choose?
Are you dying, Mr. President?
Can you connect the clues?
Are you lying in your excrement;
Do unburdened bowels sluice?
Is your breath kinda shallow,
What great weight sits on your chest?
Without make-up, your skin is sallow,
With blood pressure highly expressed.
Are you dying, Mr. President?
You can't be too obtuse.
Are you dying, Mr. President?
A state we must now deduce.
Are you dying, Mr. President?
Are the bitter facts abstruse?
There's no denying, Mr. President,
You're cooked as Christmas goose!
Are you dying, Mr. President?
Can you swallow that orange juice?
Were you trying, Mr. President,
To let these demons loose?
Are you dying, Mr. President;
Has the lysol been of use?
Are you crying, Mr. President,
That you put your own head in a noose?
Are you dying, Mr. President,
Or is that a right-wing ruse?
Are you flying, Mr. President,
With the chickens coming home to roost?
Correction: The sixth stanza (second line) should read - " Are the bitter facts abstruse? " DSW
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Well articulated and nicely brought forth with clarity of thought and mind. An insightful bit of verse set aside for deep reflective thought.