Poems of the Week

Heaves of Gas

by Donald A. Ranard

I celebrate myself, and sing myself,
And what I assume you will assume,
Or, believe me, you will be in big, big, trouble,
Because this nation is in a mess, a very, very big mess,
And I alone can fix it (I have a very high IQ).
My fellow Americans, help me make America great again,
Or I’ll punch you in the face.
America needs to heel—wait, make that heal,
Don’t worry, I know how to spell, I just do it my way,
And I know all the words, all the good words,
My vocabulary is amazing. Unpresidented.

Do I contradict myself? OK, I contradict myself.
I am large—yuuuge!—I inflame multitudes.
No one has bigger crowds than me. Why?
OK, I’ll tell you why. Empathy.
There’s never been anybody more empathetic
(And with a very high IQ). You? You’re pathetic,
Low energy. Sad! Look at me! My doctor goes,
“I’ve never seen anybody like you. You have the lowest
Blood pressure ever, like 100 over something.
You’re like twenty-two (and you have a very high IQ)!”

I tweet my barbaric yawps over the websites of the world.
In the faces of men and women, I see … me!
I love these people, they’re incredible,
You can do anything you want, no sweat,
Grab them by their assets.