White Man. © Marty Two Bulls.

White Man. © Marty Two Bulls.

And from Tiffany Midge, ‘Ars Poetica,’ by Donald J. Trump:

Nobody, not even the rain, has such small hands.

~E.E. Cummings

Trust me, I’m a poet.

I have all of the words.

I have the best words.

The most tremendous words.

Bigly. Yuge!

Those other poets are a disaster,

just a disaster.

I’m going to build a wall

around those other poet’s

words, because no one

has more respect for words as me.

I love words, I respect words so much.

I love them so much that I would date

my own words if I wasn’t already

related to them.

I’m going to make poetry great again.

And I’m just the poet to do that too.

When it comes to words—

they’re just so beautiful

I just start kissing them,

and I can do that too,

when you’re a poet they let you do that,

they let you do anything,

I’m on those words like a mystic,

I grab ‘em by the muse.

Words are great, they’re a beautiful thing.

I have the best ones though,

because I’m the best.

I’m a winner, words love me.

I’m yuge.


  1. says

    What a Maroon, yeah, so am I. I appreciate the wit of Tiffany Midge’s poem, but it didn’t make me laugh. I’m still swimming unanchored in shock, and it’s just getting worse.

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