[BACKGROUND: When he was VP, the current POTUS used aliases for emails. “JRB Ware,” one of Biden’s pseudonyms, is shortened here to JB Ware in keeping with the iambic lines]
The doddering President JB Ware,
When asked, does little more than stare.
He checks his watch in times of trouble;
The Media keeps him in a bubble.
His faltering climb upon a stair
Will we recall about old Ware.
Unless we think of all he’s done,
To change the victories we had won.
Think Taliban, now rich in bombs
We left behind; he was aplomb
That he was right and we were wrong;
This wisened fool has made them strong.
Or think cartels that now run wild
Abusing every helpless child
And selling drugs to kill us all;
Our people dead from fentanyl.
And then there’s oil that’s now quite pricey;
No bother, for his cone’s quite icy.
“What flavor do you have now, Joe?”
That is the depth the Press will go.
He’s spent his time upon the beach
As millions crossed each border breach.
No worry for a dozing brain
Old Joe will simply scowl again
If someone asks about the border
He'll say it’s good; it’s all in order.
But as he dodders through his reign
Most unaware of all the pain
That he has caused with high inflation
To young and old across the nation,
He offers more to those abroad:
“Come right across.” Then off he’ll nod.
And when a fire burned Maui down
He deigned to leave a Tahoe town.
“At least,” we’ll say, “he made the suff’ing
“Seem little worth his mindless mutt’ing
“About the blaze within his kitchen,
“The fire that almost hurt his kitten.”
We’ll all remember his first day,
When he shut Keystone all the way,
And put us on a spiraling track
To save the planet and turn us back
To beg the Saudis, “Give us some slack.
“We need your oil; we cannot drill;
“Just raise the price.” You know they will.
Yes, senile POTUS JB Ware,
Will wander round most unaware
Unless his staff give him some cards:
“You walk right in, sit down, with guards.”
“They’ll see you stand in the right place
“And usher you to save your face.
“And if the Press is there today,
“Then this is what we’ll have you say.
“America can be defined
“In one word that slipped my mind.
“You know the thing, no joke, I say.”
His sycophants will hold their breath
And ask if he speaks shibboleth.
They’ll look at one another now
To question handlers that did allow
His wand’ring mind to go off script,
Revealing that he's nondescript.
“But please dear POTUS stay on cue
“Especially since you have no clue.”
This doddering fool of an old man
Whose mentor once had led the Klan,
Now lectures us about our bias
And says he’s Catholic and is quite pious--
Except for that abortion stuff
“It’s just some cells.” He’s in a huff.
He claims he’s best at women’s rights
But makes them pee within men’s sights.
He says he's for the unions, too,
And even for the men in blue.
But actions are as we all know
The proof that Biden is all show
For crimes are up and wages down
I hate to say, “This guy’s a clown.”
I could go on, and maybe mention
The debt, e.g., and Taiwan tension.
The laptop, too, and hoax collusion,
And family money in profusion.
I could say more about his tales
And more about his gaffes and fails,
But telling all would make a book;
All one needs to do is look.
I’ll leave you this iambic verse
Your brain will mimic; so now you’re cursed.
Throughout today, you’ll think in rhyme
Because with me you spent some time.
But as you think of JB Ware
You’ll have some fun; of that I swear.
The doddering President JB Ware,
When asked, does little more than stare.
He checks his watch in times of trouble;
The Media keeps him in a bubble.
His faltering climb upon a stair
Will we recall about old Ware.
Unless we think of all he’s done,
To change the victories we had won.
Think Taliban, now rich in bombs
We left behind; he was aplomb
That he was right and we were wrong;
This wisened fool has made them strong.
Or think cartels that now run wild
Abusing every helpless child
And selling drugs to kill us all;
Our people dead from fentanyl.
And then there’s oil that’s now quite pricey;
No bother, for his cone’s quite icy.
“What flavor do you have now, Joe?”
That is the depth the Press will go.
He’s spent his time upon the beach
As millions crossed each border breach.
No worry for a dozing brain
Old Joe will simply scowl again
If someone asks about the border
He'll say it’s good; it’s all in order.
But as he dodders through his reign
Most unaware of all the pain
That he has caused with high inflation
To young and old across the nation,
He offers more to those abroad:
“Come right across.” Then off he’ll nod.
And when a fire burned Maui down
He deigned to leave a Tahoe town.
“At least,” we’ll say, “he made the suff’ing
“Seem little worth his mindless mutt’ing
“About the blaze within his kitchen,
“The fire that almost hurt his kitten.”
We’ll all remember his first day,
When he shut Keystone all the way,
And put us on a spiraling track
To save the planet and turn us back
To beg the Saudis, “Give us some slack.
“We need your oil; we cannot drill;
“Just raise the price.” You know they will.
Yes, senile POTUS JB Ware,
Will wander round most unaware
Unless his staff give him some cards:
“You walk right in, sit down, with guards.”
“They’ll see you stand in the right place
“And usher you to save your face.
“And if the Press is there today,
“Then this is what we’ll have you say.
“America can be defined
“In one word that slipped my mind.
“You know the thing, no joke, I say.”
His sycophants will hold their breath
And ask if he speaks shibboleth.
They’ll look at one another now
To question handlers that did allow
His wand’ring mind to go off script,
Revealing that he's nondescript.
“But please dear POTUS stay on cue
“Especially since you have no clue.”
This doddering fool of an old man
Whose mentor once had led the Klan,
Now lectures us about our bias
And says he’s Catholic and is quite pious--
Except for that abortion stuff
“It’s just some cells.” He’s in a huff.
He claims he’s best at women’s rights
But makes them pee within men’s sights.
He says he's for the unions, too,
And even for the men in blue.
But actions are as we all know
The proof that Biden is all show
For crimes are up and wages down
I hate to say, “This guy’s a clown.”
I could go on, and maybe mention
The debt, e.g., and Taiwan tension.
The laptop, too, and hoax collusion,
And family money in profusion.
I could say more about his tales
And more about his gaffes and fails,
But telling all would make a book;
All one needs to do is look.
I’ll leave you this iambic verse
Your brain will mimic; so now you’re cursed.
Throughout today, you’ll think in rhyme
Because with me you spent some time.
But as you think of JB Ware
You’ll have some fun; of that I swear.
RSS Feed