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.