by flammeusgladius



Why does the leftist agonize and fret?

Why is his judgment gone to regions far

As any unseen trans-galactic star?

Why are the facts evading every net

He casts aloft, determined still to get

Some startling evidence?  Lad:  no cigar!

Though it’s a lush green course, you’re over par

By quite a bit.  Yet still you don’t regret

The turn you took, the path you chose and trod,

The many times you’ve smooched the Devil’s rump

While cursing first your natal church, then God.

The blow-up doll that you embrace and hump—

Why, even she’s decided that you’re odd!

It’s not your fault, of course.  Hey, let’s blame Trump!


–Tom Riley