Robert Cooperman- A Poem

Trump Calls Out Elizabeth Warren

Hey Senator Pocahontas,

where’s your eagle feather?

How come you don’t look

like a squaw or wear buckskins?

You’re a dumb, four-eyed broad,

who doesn’t know how to dress

or use make-up or wear falsies

under your trainer bra, to make

what little you have more appealing

to A List men, who wouldn’t look at you

even if you had giant cazongas.

But all you got is a big yap

that, when I get to the Oval Office,

I’m going to shut with an exec order,

you disgusting pig, stringier, uglier

than Popeye’s Olive Oyl.

Where do you come off calling me

a lying bully who can’t be trusted?

You’re the one who speaks

in forked tongues, claiming

to be part Cherokee, like every

other loser in the country.

If I left Atlantic City really, really rich

at the expense of the little people

and investors who believed I could turn

casinos around and provide good jobs

and profits for lazy bums, that’s called,

“Business sense,” nothing illegal about it.

You swim near a shark, you lose a leg.

That, Pocahontas, is the American Way.