Syndic No. 19 Cover
Syndic Literary Journal

Resistance Poetry by Bob Cooperman – Chapter 1

Dictator Donald Trump / Portrait by Allen Forrest

 

Resistance Poetry – Chapter 1

 

by Bob Cooperman

 

Narration by Charles Ramelkamp

 

Trump Saves the Day:  Version One

I got the call: an active shooter

in a Maryland school, and fast

as the Flash, I was on Marine One.

The cop trembling outside

stuttered a kid had an AK-15.

“Outta my way!” I elbowed past

the gutless bastard, and saw him,

laughing like a Batman supervillain

while he sprayed gunfire.

I charged, knocked the long gun

from his hands, slammed him

into the wall, and pounded the sicko,

students and teachers cheering.

After I delivered the coup de grace

with a karate chop, one cute little number

with bazooms big as birthday balloons

let me cop a feel.  The shooter? 

I told the principal,

“There’s a Dumpster out back!”

Man, I sounded presidential and decisive.

Maybe Melania’ll forgive me now,

for that hot porn star: a man with cajones

big and hard as mine is so full of testosterone

he needs to lighten his load immediately.

 

Trump Saves the Day: Version Two

My school-shooter hotline lit up

like a Mexican whore house.

Outside the school, a deputy

was cringing like he was taking fire;

inside, a popcorn-popper gone nuts.

“Gimme that!” I grabbed his piece,

and forcing the coward ahead of me,

ran in: Marines in Iraq had it easy.

The shooter, a greaser spraying rounds

like he was watering an American lawn.

“Hey, Gun Boy,” I shouted, “get this!”

and shoved the gutless guard at the kid,

made a mess of him, which gave me time

to aim and fire, and bring the maniac down.

Teachers, students stuck their heads out,

no one applauding their hero, their savior. 

It’s then I noticed almost all were black

or brown or yellow.  They’d have been

all over the Kenyan if he’d had the balls

to do what I did; instead bankrolling

every school shooting in America,

to turn my magnificent country

into a Third World Shit Hole,

using real patriots for target practice.

 

Trump Saves the Day: Version Three

Kelly dragged me onto Marine One:

another sicko shooting up

a high school in Northern Virginia. 

“Think of the PR possibilities,”

my traitorous chief of staff cooed,

to send me in against a crazed kid

with an AK-15, so he could declare himself

Dictator-in-Chief and have Melania.

When he yanked me to the side door,

I made a neat scissors move to send him

reeling into the building, and nodded

to a marine to toss in a handgun,

then ordered the other marines to block the door,

so smart-ass general Kelly couldn’t get out.

Shots ricocheted like an arcade game,

and just as I was about to order another marine

to take Kelly’s place, the bastard saluted

with his piece and pointed that the kid was dead.

I told him to keep his yap shut

at the press conference, and crowed  

how I’d stormed in like Teddy Roosevelt

in Puerto Rico or the Philippines, or wherever.

Man, it feels great to be such a big hero;

even better than two scoops of ice cream

when everyone else is getting just one!

 

Trump Saves the Day: Version Four

Junior, grab your rifle,

there’s slime ball shooting-up

a Northern Virginia high school.

I’ve got too much going on here,

what with this creep Mueller

refusing to leave me alone.

Plus everyone’s bellyaching

about my beautiful tariffs.

So my plate’s full, and not

with burgers, fries, Coke,

extra scoops of ice cream

and slabs of chocolate cake.

Think of it as a trophy to hang

over your mantle; along with

that great, endangered rhino.

The cops are useless cowards,

with their low energy handguns

that couldn’t take out a charging lesbo.

You’re on site?  See the shooter?

Good, now a nice clean head shot.

The last thing the loser expects

is someone stalking him.

Mueller?  Do me a favor, invite him

over, then claim he was an intruder.

The cops in my pocket will declare

stand-your-ground, like that kid

in Florida no one remembers.

 

 

 

 

 

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July 2018
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