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He’s such a teeny, tiny, loser man.

A baby in a man-sized orange suit.

When faced with how to place a travel ban

He always took the childish racist route. 

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A fortune bragged, inherited, then lost.

But not to worry, he’ll feign charity.

And when he loses, he lies at any cost.

The party dies but he just swallows pity.

His sportsmanship is mere insistent screams.

He cares for naught save lies he spews each day.

He is the champ of winning in his dreams. 

Knows naught of friendship, love, or learn or play.

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One day, the naked king will lie alone.

And live alone in tweet-space on his phone. 

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(I’m King! I’m King! Of Everything!)

Stoned Soup

Absolute is not just a vodka



Where does your loyalty lie?

What about the butter dish?

The stopping rule

The update problem

Siren Song

Essays on America: Wednesday

My Cousin Bobby

The Ailing King of Agitate

Donnie & Veterans Day Parade

Siren Song

Donnie’s Last Gift

Imagine all the People

Dance of Billions

The echoes of your actions

Ah wilderness

You must remember this

The forest