You fly in here and boast that you are he
Who makes Communication work. Absurd!
Sit down, but first take off that stupid flea-
Worn cape. You want some tea? Shhh– not a word.
The Tow’r of Babel is your beau ideal
And I’d agree that we have made a mess
Of co-existing. But, you know, old pal,
We poets turn your wicked “Nyet” to “Yes”
With rhyme and metaphor (like ent’ring through
The window—not the door—of kindred hearts).
With honest language we will conquer you,
You rusty-headed pol. By Jan. depart
For distant swamps. Retrieve a book. Attempt
To learn the things for which you’ve had contempt.

2 thoughts on “An English Sonnet: For DJT by Paul Lamar

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