I don’t normally write poetry. But desperate times call for desperate measures.
So, for what it’s worth, here is my poem for Trump, written in Spring 2018:
My Robin Hood Costume Is an Incredible Winner*
by Marvin Wexler
30 The Esplanade
New Rochelle, NY 10804
O, let America be Great again.
Like it was when Andy Jackson ruled the roost and people knew their place (or were shown it).
Like it was when Gould (“I can hire one half of the working class to kill the other half”)** and Vanderbilt (“What do I care about the law. Ain’t I got the power?”)*** were doing Great Business.
Like it was when Bill Clark, Montana copper king (and king of worker exploitation, environmental degradation and bribery; “I never bought a man who wasn’t for sale”)**** bought his Senate seat.
Like it was when such Real Men, men of fortitude, men of vision and focus, leveraged power to gain great wealth and build the Nation in their image.
I am the Inheritor of that glorious chain.
Of deceive, extort, lie – of make a killing!
Of respect nothing but power and cash.
Of laundered money and hush money.
Of corrupt everything for one’s own brand.
Of dare do all that does not become a man.
But I am greater still. I am also the Grand Illusionist.
I masquerade as Robin Hood – champion of the Saxon peasantry, enemy of the corrupt, elite nobles. A law unto myself.
A Robber Baron dressed as Robin Hood.
A Robber Baron shouting, “Drain the Swamp.”
What chutzpah! What balls! What great TV!
And I’ve polished up that act so carefully,
That now I am the ruler of whole country.
And I act to let America be the dream of the White Men who tamed this land,
And to make real the dream the Robber Barons only dreamed.
I sign Laws and Orders to put America First again.
America First, especially we rich. Slash our taxes, then the safety net. Real Men don’t use safety nets (except for my beloved bankruptcy and limited liability laws).
America First, especially its corporations. Great citizens. They don’t get sick or complain. And they come with legal duties that bless our greed. Loveʹem.
America First, especially its unschooled whites yearning to be sucked up to. Pawns in my racist game.
America First, but not its poor and sick. I don’t see poverty or illness. I see weakness begging to be exploited.
America First, but not its women. They’ve always been great just as they are – great to grope.
America First, but not its earth, air and water. When the seas rise, floods flood and communities drown, throw’em some Bounty.
America First, but not any strangers just arrived from shitholes. Send’em back to their huts (unless they’re models) — after we take their children away from them.
America First, but not its inconvenient Constitution and laws. If need be, I’ll declare some national emergency to make America Great Again.
America First, but not as to Putin or MbS or other Real Man. We few Real Men are in the same business. We scratch each other’s backs.
America First, but not anyone who dares challenge me. Enemies of The People. Traitors. Lock’em up. Or send’em back where they came from.
America First, but not any election result I might seem to lose. That would be voter fraud.
Voter fraud. What a racket I’ve made of that! Gone so far beyond the great American traditions of black voter suppression and gerrymandering. Roy Cohn would be so proud of the Big Lies (like “I have no business in Russia”), the election-eve hush money payments to Stormy, and my greenlighting of Russia’s hacking of my opponents’ email. Yet I scream “Voter fraud,” and they eat it up. I’m amazing!
America First, regardless of the truth. My attitude is all the truth that matters.
America First, especially my brand: Mammon.
My classy Mammon.
I’d walk a million miles
For one of your smiles,
My dear Mammon.
* The poem is indebted to “Let America Be America Again,” by Langston Hughes, and contains references to or from “Macbeth” by William Shakespeare, “Pawns in Their Game” by Bob Dylan, “The First Lord’s Song” by Gilbert & Sullivan, and “My Mammy,” lyrics by Joe Young and Sam M. Lewis.