This poem is meant to be a stark warning to the Nobel Committee: awarding Donald Trump 
the Peace Prize would not only mock the values it stands for, but stain its legacy with hypocrisy, 
division, and deception.

Oh Nobel minds, in hallowed seat,
Let not your purpose taste defeat.
The world looks on with wary eyes—
Will justice bend or truth arise?

They whisper Trump deserves the crown,
For talks where bombs had once rained down.
But peace is more than photo shows,
Or handshakes staged in choreographed rows.

He tore up deals that steadied hands,
The Iran Accord—replaced with sands
Of chaos sown and trust betrayed,
While threats and tariffs wildly swayed.

He praised despots with careless glee,
From Pyongyang’s Kim to Riyadh’s plea.
He backed no rights, ignored the pleas
Of nations crushed by tyrannies.

He caged the children at the gate,
Fanned racial fires, preached with hate.
His silence thundered when it mattered—
When lives were lost and cities shattered.

He mocked the plague with cruel disdain,
Let thousands die, dismissed their pain.
No mask, no truth, just blame to cast—
A leader gripped by ego vast.

He scorned alliances, broke the chain
That kept the world from war’s domain.
With tweets and tantrums, threats and lies,
He dimmed the hope in countless eyes.

So Oslo, pause before the fall,
Defend the prize, defend its call.
It honours peace, not show, not fame—
Don’t let it burn in Trump’s stained name.

Let history not be forced to say:
"The prize once pure was led astray."
Choose not the path of tainted grace—
Let justice keep its rightful place.