Rush

Rush

A Poem by Bob B

He died at seventy years of age;

His words had poisoned a nation.

Much of what he ranted about

Was total fabrication.

 

White identity politics:

He set a blueprint for that.

And when he criticized liberals,

He upped the thermostat.

 

Race-baiting for him was certainly

Par for the course.

Constant attack was his strategy,

With no hint of remorse.

 

Being politically INcorrect

To show his point of view

And crossing the line of propriety

Were what he loved to do.

 

True he had his loyal fans

Who would never condemn

His bigotry and conspiracy theories.

What is wrong with them?

 

The Capitol insurrectionists,

Naturally, he'd spout,

Were NOT thugs, but patriots!

Figure that one out.

 

When giving him the Medal of Freedom

Despite his divisive ways,

Trump insulted all the people

Truly deserving of praise.

 

There are some who’ll jump for joy,

Knowing that Rush is gone.

But sadly all his vitriol

Continues to live on.

 

-by Bob B (2-18-21)

© 2021 Bob B


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Added on February 18, 2021
Last Updated on February 18, 2021