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It is a very long drive,
that never really gets there.
There's no rushing to Russia,
in the middle of nowhere.
Courses are all frozen,
for over half a year.
Fur hats are necessary,
Mercedes a must.
Cut the bureaucracy,
in money we trust.
Better to go bare chested,
in Siberia for a while.
But golfing at Mara Lago,
has come into style.
More politics gets done,
while on the course.
Forget the people,
have no remorse.
With gold plated clubs,
and our towers in the sky.
People all love us,
or we fire them…
Bye-bye.
Copyright 2018 © Ronald W. Hull
6/7/18
Read this poem at my website here.
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Love ya!
Jane
God, I love satire.
Cheers,
Dan
Sandie