Chipper gristle, carbon crust,
Darkened rissole if you must,
Trump half-charred, watch him sound off:
Body politic is browned off.
Roastie with a crispy coat,
Toastie tinged with creosote:
Crispy rind and spud-u-burned,
Truth cremated and inurned.
Crunching on the smoking slice,
Burning like a sacrifice:
It’s over-heated, over-fried –
Fast food with a charcoal taste,
Morals blazing, hope laid waste,
Fire in the nation’s pants, sir –
Every day, a growing cancer.
Do not trust what’s cooked in lard
And singed and very likely charred:
His lies are made of phoney cash.
He wants to grind you into ash.
Click here for a Guardian story