Monday, February 15, 2016

Robert Cooperman- A Poem

President Trump at the Border—The Daily Patriot

He stands atop the hundred foot wall
he commanded into being with the labor
of immigrants he captured entering the country,
and with those hiding within our borders.
And as illegal hordes now attempt to breach
the one gate President Trump, in his genius,
ordered cut into the wall to act as a funnel,
our beloved President fires his pearl-handled
six guns—retrofitted to hold fifty bullet clips—
into the mob, sending them into screaming retreat.

“Die, you rapist-pusher-murderers!” he bellows,
to the cheers of fans who’ve paid top dollar
to sit in lounge chairs—replete with coolers
for sipping cans of Coors and Bud—atop the wall,
and the audience watching on Pay Per View.
After each charge is repelled, huge trapdoors
fly open in the desert dust,  and the dead
are steam rolled below to ovens,
until their next assault on our holy borders.

“Losers,” Our Glorious Trump sneers to an aide,  
as he jams the next clip into place and takes aim,
though hardly necessary: the hordes so thick,
all he has to do is shoot, and bodies fall
to the ground: seeped, squishy with blood.

Inspiring, to see a real, red-blooded American
President take direct, decisive action, to keep
our borders safe from invaders, some nursing
at their mothers’ dugs: urchins programmed
to kill citizens once awakened from sleeper-cell stasis.


  1. Who is running this country??? I think I know....

  2. I understand we are a country of immigrants. Folks came looking for a better life, and many achieved it.

    I wonder about BENGHAZI.