Jill Biden recently announced that her romantic hubbie writes her a poem each Christmas, no doubt delivering brilliance on par with Kipling or Whitman. As I’m a bit of a romantic myself, and love the art of poetry, I decided to give a stab at crafting my own poem. I hope it add to your enjoyment of the
Christmas holiday season.
Twas the night before Christmas, and all through DC,
Democrats were plotting, to screw you and me.
Joe Biden was thinking, of something to do,
when he saw his wife Jill, and asked, “Who are you?”
Hunter was smoking, a big ol’ crack rock,
calling his broker, to sell Burisma stock.
Kamela was pondering, and wanted to know,
how to become President—oh, who should she blow?
Obama was resting, and polishing his crown,
boy was life good, in his lilly-white town.
Nancy was drinking, guzzling wine by the case
and mainlining botox, straight in her face.
Bill’s in a hotel, with a hooker, of course,
for Christmas he wanted, a quicky divorce.
Hillary was pouting, about the plight of females,
while crushing her phones, and deleting emails.
AOC was typing, her greener new dealings,
feeling the virtue, that came with her feelings.
Jim Clyburn was roaring, and felt like the king,
while making up words, just to add some zing.
Michelle’s on the beach, with her usual frown,
thinkin’ ‘bout the White man, keeping her down.
Bernie wore mittens, feeling quite gay,
he’d buy his fourth house, the following day.
Justice Jackson was studying, she wanted to see,
how fast she could earn, a biology degree.
Fauci was festive, his career at a peak,
hoping we’d forget, that pesky lab leak.
John Kerry pondered, the global warming threat,
He worried a lot, aboard his private jet.
McConnell was thinking, switching parties would be swell,
All he needed, was to emerge from his shell.
Soros is throwing, his money around,
watching Dems go prostrate, lying on the ground.
Rachel Maddow was putting, the GOP on skewers,
to the delight, of all nine of her viewers.
Yes, you could see it in their walk, a real festive gait,
All so proud, to be the party of hate.
Happy holidays, everybody!
ABOUT THE AUTHOR …
Prioleau Alexander is a freelance writer, focusing mostly on politics and non-fiction humor. He is the author of two books: ‘You Want Fries With That?’ and ‘Dispatches Along the Way.’ Both are available on Amazon. He hopes to have another title published soon, but that would require his agent actually doing his job, so it may be awhile.
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Well done, Sir! I hate that we can no longer simply up-vote you, here.
One small correction I would make in the first verse:
“Twas the night before Christmas, and all through DC,
Democrats (AND Republicans) were plotting, to screw you and me.”
Otherwise, quite well done!
You are 100% correct. My bad.