“The beauty of me is that I am very rich.”
Aleksandar Hemon constructed a few poems for The New Yorker this past spring. Like THEM.
Them.
We called
them and let
them know.
They were able to nab
this very vicious gang
of terrorists. They got
them. I assume
they’re someplace right
now
that maybe you
don’t even want to know
about. I don’t know what
they did with
them. O.K.? And
I don’t care.
To celebrate his first one thousand days as Mobster-In-Chief of the Trump regime, I wondered if I could locate, all on my own, some of The Don’s more poetic ramblings. – JDW
Spinning Heads.
You know what I wanted to…
I wanted to hit a couple
of those speakers
so hard.
I would have
hit them.
No, no.
I was going to
hit them,
I was all set
and then
I got a call
from a highly respected governor…
I was gonna hit one guy
in particular, a very little guy.
I was gonna hit this guy
so hard
his head would spin
and he wouldn’t know
what the hell happened…
I was going to hit a number
of those speakers
so hard
their heads would spin,
they’d never recover.
And that’s what I did
with a lot—
that’s why
I still don’t have certain people
endorsing me:
they
still
haven’t
recovered.
Burgers Before Tacos.
When Mexico sends its people,
they’re not sending the best.
They’re sending people
that have lots of problems
and they’re bringing
those problems.
They’re bringing drugs,
they’re bringing crime.
They’re rapists and some,
I assume, are good people,
but I speak to border guards
and they’re telling us
what we’re getting.
We have to have a wall.
We have to have a border.
And in that wall
we’re going to have a big
fat door
where people can come
into the country,
but they have to come in legally.
I will build a great wall
and nobody builds walls
better than me,
believe me,
and I’ll build them
very inexpensively.
I will build a great, great wall
on our southern border
and I will make Mexico
pay for that wall.
Mark my words.
Long Putters Are Gay.
It’s like in golf.
A lot of people —
I don’t want this
to sound trivial —
but a lot of people
are switching
to these really long putters,
very unattractive.
It’s weird.
You see these great players
with these really long putters,
because they can’t
sink three-footers anymore.
And, I hate it.
I am a traditionalist.
I have so many fabulous
friends
who happen to be gay,
but I am a traditionalist.
The Wall.
Is there a brick wall getting in your way?
Fine. That happens.
But you have a choice.
You can walk away from the wall.
You can go over the wall.
You can go under the wall.
You can go around the wall.
You can also obliterate the wall.
In other words,
don’t let anything get in your way.
Get a balance,
and then let the positive
outdistance the negative.
Bonus poem by Rudy “Putin’s Mayor” Giuliani!
How Should You Conduct Your Life?
We don’t have real control over death.
You could die of a heart attack,
a building could fall on you,
you could be in an accident,
you could have a fatal disease.
So, how should you conduct your life?
You just go ahead and live,
taking reasonable precautions –
like handling the mail more carefully.
And Coming Soon… The Love Poems Of Donald Trump
The Pre-Nup.
The most difficult aspect
of the prenuptial agreement
is informing your future wife
(or husband): I love you very much,
but just in case
things don’t work out,
this is what you will get
in the divorce.
There are basically three types
of women
and reactions.
One is the good woman
who very much loves her future husband,
solely for himself,
but refuses to sign the agreement
on principle.
I fully understand this,
but the man should take a pass anyway
and find someone else.
The other is the calculating woman
who refuses
to sign the prenuptial agreement
because she is expecting
to take advantage of the poor,
unsuspecting
sucker she’s got in her grasp.
There is also the woman
who will openly
and quickly
sign a prenuptial agreement
in order to make a quick hit
and take the money
given to her.