POLITICAL Poem: Ozymenarea, by Jared Zeiders

I met a traveler from an antique land,
Who said—“Two vast and trunkless legs of gold
Stand in the desert…Near them, on the sand,
Half sunk a nasty visage lies, whose sneer,
And fake-tanned face, and poof of orange hair,
Tell that its sculptor well those admonitions read
Which yet survive, stamped on these lifeless
things,
The hand that beat them, and the greed that fed,
And on the pedestal these words appear:
My name is Donald Trump, King of Things,
Look on my words, ye Mighty, and declare!
Nothing beside remains. Round the decay
Of National Parks, plundered and bare,
Barren derricks stretch far away.

Author: poetryfest

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