Friday, July 15, 2016

"Stopping by Woods On a Snowy Evening" by Donald J. Trump

Robert Frost rolling over in his grave.


                                        I have a pretty good idea whose woods these are, believe me.
                                        And let me tell you something, my people say he’s a complete nobody.
                                        This guy lives in the village.   So what if he sees me stopping here?
                                        I dare him to sue me!   I dare him!
                                        And by the way, this snow is pathetic.
                                        These are by far, the least downy flakes ever!
                                        I hear they had to import them from Canada.
                                        I don’t know.  Maybe they did.  Maybe they didn’t.  We’re looking into it.
                                        My horse – he’s the most incredible horse, seriously,
                                        I have the greatest, the classiest horses –
                                        My horse doesn’t even know what the hell we’re doing here.
                                        The horses love me though.  They do.
                                        They’re always shaking their bells at me, it’s very loving.
                                        It’s a beautiful thing.
                                        Let me tell you something, these woods are an embarrassment.
                                        They’re not dark.  They’re not deep.  They’re nothing.  They’re for losers.
                                        And I cannot wait to sue this guy.
                                        I cannot wait to sue this guy.
Thanks to The Rotting Post.

2 comments:

  1. This poem, plus this photo... perfection. Perfection.

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    Replies
    1. Don't know who writes the Rotting Post, but this is a modern classic.

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