So let their names in ash be scrawled,
Let history spit on every boast,
For they will fall, reviled, appalled,
And leave the earth their haunted ghost.

#PoliticalSatire #TrumpCritique #ElonMusk #SocialCommentary #Poetry #BlueskyPoetry #CurrentEvents #PoliticalHumor #BlueskyWriters

A tantrum wrapped in human skin,
Two egos drunk on rotted wealth,
Each word they speak, a festering sin,
Each move they make, a stab at health.

Behold the “men,” grotesque and weak,
Their empires built on fraud’s black tide,
Their legacies, a sewer’s reek,
Their fates: to burn in hollow pride.

The lies they spit, so grand, so loud,
A foghorn’s blast of pure decay,
Their followers—a brain-dead crowd,
Who choke on fumes of disarray.

The towers rise, then crumble fast,
Their rocket dreams explode mid-air,
Their futures: artifacts of past,
Their riches: smoke, their power: despair.

Trump sits atop his garbage heap,
A bloated wretch, a swollen tick,
The world he burns while tweets run cheap,
His legacy: a conman’s trick.

And Musk, the prince of half-built schemes,
Who drowns in ego, crude and vain,
He sells us rust and calls them dreams,
Then blames the world for all his pain.