The days are swift passing until it’s December,
But Christmas will dawn on the 5th of November.
Two months ‘fore Election Day and throughout the land
Joy has been stirring, hopeful relief near at hand.
As late as July, there was a sense of despair.
Optimism was fading and breathing foul air.
Then Biden withdrew; ‘twas all of a sudden.
Harris stepped up, and light started to flood in.
Cheerful Kamala smiled without missing a beat,
Catching a bone-spurred bully off guard on flat feet.
She’s a Black-Asian woman who married a Jew.
See your priest or your rabbi if that troubles you.
So, Karma took over when Joe lost a debate;
Poetic justice, at last, dictating Trump’s fate.
Running strong against Donald whose gospel is hate,
Whose bloody rage keeps him in a constant red state.
She picked as her running mate, Governor Walz,
A true everyman, who responds to all calls.
When fast off they flew to swing states and rallied,
As Trump more and more scowled and dilly dallied.
He who had chosen JD Vance as his veep,
Whose obeisance displayed how much he’s a creep.
A wide-eyed senator dreaming on his love couch;
A perfect match partner for the impious grouch.
And as Grumpy campaigns with his sidekick Goofy,
This ragged tag team has been double down doofy.
Years back, there were signs Trump was non compos mentis,
Strutting ruthlessness skills on the Apprentice,
Firing everyone at his ultimate whim
With unchecked power reserved only to him.
And twenty years ere that reality show,
Wayne Barrett mapped the deets of Donald’s M.O.:
His deep-seated racism; the shield of Roy Cohn;
Dirty dealing and cheating, these all were well known.
This self-proclaimed titan whose casinos went bust;
A big entrepreneur no contractor could trust.
Now Trump’s mainly consumed by the size of each crowd,
Ranting in blue whale-ish suits that fit like a shroud.
Carrot-faced, his puss locked into a grimace,
Stewing up gripes in a big steamy tsimmes
That he feeds to his base in a crock full of lies,
Which he always refills with unending supplies:
About how he built walls to bar immigration
That’s turning us into a third world nation;
And why it made sense to oppose vaccination;
Or how he lowered our high rate of inflation.
Try figuring where he stands on abortions,
As he twists yes – no – maybes into contortions.
And he’s only become more misogynistic
With a baseline temper that starts at ballistic.
Who’s used the court system to dodge Judgment Day;
But like Yertle, he’s doomed to crash down the same way.
While Karismatic Harris along with the Coach
Continued to roll out, facing minor reproach.
After last month’s convention billowed their sails,
Felonious Trump pondered his choice of jails.
Then Trump and JD took their road show on tour.
We got a chance to suffer each faux pas du jour.
Effronteries and distractions almost non-stop:
Making losers at Arlington serve as a prop;
Blaming incomplete women for going bats
For not birthing children, who instead adopt cats.
And if he debated, would the show be on FOX,
With no questions allowed about man-eating sharks?
With the big DEBATE looming he put out new stuff,
Pulling ugly assertions straight out of his duff:
Haitians dining on take-out (kidnapped dogs and geese),
A claim debunked by Springfield’s Chief of Police.
And then the DEBATE—Trump unable to face her;
Harris owned this coward who’s tried to debase her.
He fumed when she treated his rallies with scorn,
And went off on killing babies once they were born.
Harris scored point after point ad infinitum.
Her words and her “looks” combined to smite him.
A minute later Trump spun that he’d won the night
But refused to give Harris a second fight.
It’s hard to keep up with the stream of offenses;
The barrage of untruths that assault our senses
With conspiracy theories that come abounding,
Each one more bizarre and beyond astounding.
Countless the lies exceeding verses and rhymes.
The volume and scope of his numerous crimes;
Perverting O. Henry’s “The Gift of the Magi,”
Trump’s Christmas tale is, The “Grift of the MAG Guy.”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Be careful Kamala! Victory’s not in the bag
With twisted judges flying the upside-down flag,
Abetting Trump, concocting legal protections
Re the insurrection and stealing elections.
We know the one Harris Poll that counts most of all,
Is when people show up to cast ballots this fall,
And tell Donald Trump what they think of his fury.
Voters render the verdict. We are the jury.
Fred Smith retired from the New York City public school system
as an administrative analyst. His occasional poems and op-eds
have appeared in the New York Daily News and other newspapers.
