• Daniel Ethan Finneran

Full of Faux Sincerity, Lacking (all) Intelligibility, Kamala Harris Can't Speak - A Political Poem

Updated: 2 days ago

Of Trump ‘tis said he lacks proper grammar;

Of Biden, he suffers an inborn stammer.

With his words, the first is carelessly loose—

Committing great crimes of verbal abuse.

And I don’t just mean insults at foes launched

Landing on Rosie O’Donnell’s large paunch.

Nor barbs aimed at Gov’nor Christie’s wide girth

Nor questions concerning Obama’s birth.

Syntax is no skill of which he can boast

Unlike his inveterate penchant to roast.

To our fair language, if Trump does great harm,

That done by Biden is more cause for alarm.

The one wounds the flesh, mere scrapes on the skin

But there’s no salve for the assaults of Biden.

To what low depths has our high language sunk?

When ‘Geriatric Joe’ slurs like a drunk,

Failing to string one frayed sentence along

Please!—can his next address be his swan song?

“Chastise not!” bellow friends of the old goose,

“’Tis not Biden’s fault, his lips are obtuse

That his brain is smooth, his hoary dull wit

Drained of what little once occupied it”.

Sadly, I fear, this is no good defense

Of a man ungifted with eloquence

To whom, in this damaged democracy

We gave the chair of the presidency.

Who knows what’ll happen some seven months hence,

He might be declared Non compos mentis:

Relieved of his post, from his chair removed

Of his power stripped, by his party reproved.

And then, as our Constitution avers

On the Vice President, the power confers.

Like a springbok poked, a roused impala

Up will leap an excited Kamala!

But dampen your hopes, for soon you shall see

She too lacks intelligibility.

Each time that she speaks, it sounds like her first

Like a flightless fledgling pushed from its perch.

On oratory’s wings she attempts to fly

Her pinions ablaze as she gilds the sky.

But down she falls! Like Daedalus’ son,

By ambition’s hot flame, quickly undone.

Under the weight of pretend gravity

She talks to us with faux sincerity—

Inflating her lines with meaningless cant

Empty of reason, of eloquence scant.

With pablum and pomp, her speeches are filled

And, by her cackling, a listener’s chilled.

A laugh shriller than the squawk of a crow,

And Yet—we’re told she’s a black Cicero.

By whom? Those who’d deliberately sully

The spotless name of Rome’s lustrous Tully.

One can’t but cringe when he hears her guffaws

And withhold from her his liberal applause—

Having now become painfully aware

That her intellectual forest is bare.

It’s at this point he begins to wonder:

How we’ve a woman so prone to blunder?—

So void of reason, unpossessed of thought

That each word’s value is equal to naught?

(The answer…)

Draped in the right genitalia and skin

The clothes by which our leaders are chosen.

In swarthy brown clad, a tan radiant hue

And yes! what’s more!—her “X” chrom’somes are two!

Fine features, no doubt, in modernity

When we’ve made an idol of diversity.

But what of her talent to communicate?—

To flesh and fair sex, this skill’s second-rate.

A surface pleasing to progressive eyes

Is merit’s concealment, and talent’s disguise.

Preference for the shade of a favored “race”

Is what an unwell nation will embrace.

And thus, we suffer Miss Harris’ blabber

From intersectionality’s ladder—

(Indeed, from its height, its uppermost rung

The tallest peak from which nonsense is sung).

Between Trump, Biden, and brainless Miss Harris,

We’ve quite enough tongues, by which to embarrass

A country asking for nothing so great

As one leader who can communicate.

As I start, so I end, with irreverence:

To English, Trump shows bestial indifference.

From Biden, the language has taken its leave.

As for Kamala, youngest of the three,

Her tongue most resembles dumb infancy.

At last! It seems I’ve exhausted myself

Emptied the contents of poetry’s shelf.

This, I will say, and not a word further:

Let not our gentle language be murdered!

2 views0 comments

Recent Posts

See All

Success, ‘tis said, yet more success begets– On the prosperous rains ever more profits. So reads the adage of the Gospel’s Jew: The iron law, the Effect of Matthew. “To him who has much, more will be