So It’s a Catcher’s Mitt

Eating Donald’s Pie, an elegy for Mitt Romney
 
When I die, and I’m laid down to rest
Will it matter how well I am dressed?
Will it still be news, about that time
That I choked down Donald’s frog
And ate Trump’s humble pie
 
I’m not a loser, I just redefined win,
When I kissed his feet like he’s Jesus
And then the world saw me, glassy-eyed
As I choked down Donald’s frog
And ate some humble pie
 
Oh, put me down for another slice of pie
For a seat at the table, I’d give roadkill a try
Am I a toady because I ate frog
With someone I consider an un-presidential guy?
 
Oh serve me up some more humble pie,
and a plate of crow, boiled, or fried
I’ll drink the kool-aid trickled down from on high
If it’ll get me in good with the guy!
whatever gets me in good with the guy..{Fade}
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3 responses to this post.

  1. Utah Phillips pie -recipes 😀

    Reply

  2. (With your rhymed help) I’m starting to better understand the oft-repeated complaint about ‘politicians’, their willingness to change firmly-spoken positions as ‘circumstances’ dictate. That ‘funny-guy’ ‘Stewart” quipped: ‘good that the photo was shot from waist-up’.
    I oddly dreamed, (before reading this) about my taking my baseball glove daily to school. The main ‘inner-child’ message is of course: ‘You used to be an athlete… what happened, Johnny?’
    But it may not be an over-stretch to parse/grok it as ‘8-balls in the air these days; don’ matter what glove you got, boy!
    A sick nation we got now, no question. The role of poets in fixing it?

    Reply

  3. I guess poets reflect the national mood, and reinforce a ‘we aren’t alone’ attitude among the disaffected portion of the populace.
    Is trump thought to be a buffoon over there? I imagine Bibi is a fan.

    Reply

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