I don't often post on this poetry blog but I feel so strongly about this subject, I had to share it.

 

Dear Donald Trump

 

Dear Donald Trump, the thought of you as the next Leader

of the Free World makes me want to hurl. 

Has America lost her mind

 

to even consider a racist, sexist buffoon

who hasn’t the sense to spend a sliver of his tax-free billions

on decent hair, for President?   It makes no sense. 

 

40% of your nation go to church: can’t they see

you are not heaven sent?  You are hell-bent on the destruction of good will;

on hating away good neighbours and good friends. 

 

You freely admit you’d date your daughter

if you were unrelated…let me be blunt: you’re a creep. 

Every proper father is queasy at the thought. 

 

I weep to think you could be elevated to a great position

when decency demands you be incarcerated.

I pray that your ambition is defeated by your admission.

 

To we British, your name sounds like gas; alas,

you are not so easily disseminated:

obvious odium has its own appeal – there is much joy in hatred.

 

If you win the Presidential Election, natural selection

will surely have been proved: such a weak people

will not for long prevail, on that you can depend.

 

If you win…unthinkable…if you win,

I’ll tell the boys to build the bunkers,

for it must be the beginning of the end.