January 6, 2021 by Philip Lewenstein

My Rhyme Rock Star Aunt Calls for Trump to Go

My amazing Aunt Ida, rhyme rock star, writes poems/rhymes and colorful children’s books (“My Amazing Aunt: Poet/Author, Rhyme Rock Star,” March 17, 2020). Her themes have been children, the environment, and fun and fantasy.

More recently, the octogenarian author from San Mateo, California, has created rhymes and Facebook posts commenting on current events, particularly the imminent departure of President Donald Trump. Two of her Trump rhymes appear below as well as a rhyme expressing the challenges of shelter-in-place orders for adult residences.

GOODNIGHT OL’ TRUMP #2

Goodnight ol’Trump

It’s time for you to go

Will we miss you? Heavens no!

We hate to say it, but it is so- –

You’re a phony, baloney,

With no common sense

Nonsense and gibberish is all that you can dispense

Take with you your cronies,

Mitch, Barr, and Pence.

Executive Power is your newfound toy,

You use it with such abandon,

It gives you such joy.

Too, there are no checks or balances

Or any of that stuff.

You have the power, and

For you, that’s enough!

And what’s more, add this to your many flaws

You’ve never read the Constitution

You know nothing about its laws.

For you it’s no problem—it never was!

You stood at the church (not your church), Bible in hand

While peaceful protesters were sprayed

At your command.

You’ve turned a blind eye

To kids languishing in cages- –

It’s simply outrageous—simply outrageous!

You cut food stamps to the poor—already low

How can they survive? They’d like to know.

And what about the “dreamers,” whose future here is in doubt?

If we had our way—they would stay

And you GO—OUT!

For the walls you’re erecting

You asked Mexico to pay

Their answer is simple—NO WAY, JOSE!

You know, we’ve never had a president

With the likes of you

And hope to God that we never DO!

Good night, ol’ Trump, it’s getting late

It’s time to go—we’ll show you the gate.

GOODBYE OL’TRUMP #3

Goodbye ol’ Trump

It’s time for you to leave

You’ve lost the election

And you must now concede.

Trump—“No, No! Let this be clear

I’m still your president

AND I’M STAYING RIGHT HERE!”

But sir, challenging the pollsters

Is a useless act.

The numbers haven’t changed

They’re still intact.

In the first presidential debate

You did often interrupt

Causing poor Biden

To yell, “SHUT UP MAN, SHUT UP!”

While world leaders gathered

To ponder Climate Change

You were out hitting golf balls

At your Mar-a-Lago range

And about Covid 19—what did you say?

Trump—“Not to worry, it will all blow away.”

Sir, there is a man with a moving van

Rapping on your door

Says he’s been here several times before

He claims he is the next president

And therefore the NEW White House resident

What should I tell him? What should I say?

Trump—“Your time has not come. Please go away!”

What about Melania

Will she shed some tears about leaving?

“No,” she mutters,

“It has been a miserable four years

No way am I grieving.”

And what about the kids?

How will they fare

Now that “Big Daddy” is no longer there?

Goodbye, Ol’ Trump

It’s time for you to go

It’s been a depressing four years

The records clearly show

Your cheating and lying

Brought much discontent

We look forward to an honest and fair government.

Sir—The man with the van

Is back here again

Claiming he has won the election

And before moving in, he says with a grin

He wants to make a cursory inspection

Trump—“Move IN! Move IN!!

Not by the hair of my CHINNY CHIN CHIN!

Besides, my MAGA fans love me so

They tell me emphatically not to go

Four more years, is what they chant

So you see, I really can’t.

What’s more they tell me

Not to totter

“Stay in place—

You’re STILL in THE RACE

Come HELL or HIGH WATER!”

The Jewish News of Northern California published Ida’s poem about being confined to her room most of the day during the pandemic (“‘If I Let It…’: a poem for these times with a message of personal resilience,” May 15, 2020)

If I Let It

My room

Could be a tomb

Filled with gloom and doom

…If I let it.

It could also be a stage

Where I could express

Love or even rage

…If I let it.

It could become my favorite spot

To peel back time and

Reminisce a lot

…If I let it.

And last but not least—

It could become my Camelot

Where good things happen and

Bad things do not

…If I let it.

Since the shelter-in-place order, Ida, like so many others living in adult residences, has been confined to her room for most of the day.

“But in the place I live, everyone has a balcony, and they organize events that we can join in from our balconies,” Ida told The Jewish News. “It helps to keep you going, and that’s helpful. I’m lucky to live here.”