A final phweet

The tweets from toilets were stopped,
The bully pulpit slipped away,
The swamp did not get drained, prisons did,
A final executive order revoked an earlier one,
Opening the flood gate to refill the swamp again,
Pardoned cronies will need a job,
What’s better for the alligators than the swamps of Washington,
After all the conman needs money to live his lifestyle,
Airforce One not his private jet any more,
His name in the dump, he schemes for a resurrection.

And a faded sunset beckons, hinting
A tarnished legacy,
Humiliation and oblivion.

Choice

Choice to have a slow death
Lingering pain slowly sucking away
My last breath
While you rejoice
At the beauty of your lying creation
Of giving  everybody a free choice
You made sure that giving me
A choice I neither asked nor wanted
You and your cronies
Living in an alternate universe
Will line your pockets with riches
While I count my days
Burdened by your fake choices