Don Alonso and the poor wandering Noodle dribbled and dropped a trail of crumb
Not truly wishing many or even one to follow
But lo and lower one of porcine gusto and vain slobbering soliloque
Has lit the dim trail with a sputtering flame
The dark oily proud burning of turgid slogans and howling disaffections
Of the millions that share a stained and sotted bed
With torturers and lynchers and pinchers and tacky nincompoops
To scale the wall of proud schlockery and ignorance that rings this fetid moat
Another wall like a line of loose boweled leavings
Must be laid to calm the popular dysentery of those that travel with The Asshat
His countenance like pornography drawn in the sanctuary
The utterances of his wormy mouth show images of his dead on hallowed walls
Made sparkley by wicked empresarios feting him
In their bleak circus boiled by snotty avaricious toadies simmering their children in the pot
A carnal dream of himself in the embrace of savage Crusaders and a squatting pink Il Duce
Woke him aroused and laying his slippered toe on the trail
Made before him by many that suffered and yearned for the truth that proceeds from care
The Asshat marched swollen from the tower toting
A nasty dripping sack of snacks for an American mob ecstatic in the wishing for an immaculate
Pasty future of lost angry anglo saxon pompous puffery
Distilled in a thousand kitchens of strap and chain muffins fit only for the thick and cruel
To make the place great again he struts the stages gyrating with cheap bawdy schlock and threats
Like potty mouth purple Orchs attempting fame
Resorting to exposing human decay in a display of the black art of hoggish hula hoops
Spinning like a festering bubo The Asshat assails the best
Of what we are with fly blown offal belching from the diseased abattoir of his privileged noggin
An immigrant lost in the generous lie of exceptionalism and contempt
Native American Grandmother says she has nothing to give him but wishes him peace
