The Conquest of Donald Trump by Greenland
A Capriccio
If it please you, Muse
If you so desire
Sing through me, right now,
The Song of Ice and Liar—
Of Donald Trump, the Visigoth
Who, fighting the Chinese—
Soon found himself at pains
To steal land from the Danes
But his people were unfit for war,
Snacks and smack, they adored
So Don began his sally, with
A call to Silicon Valley
🤖
“Get your Aspies on this, Zuck—
Zombie ‘em out so they can’t even fuck,
I want doom scrolls and clickbait-
Tinder-made heartache-
Some yearn to be heard,
Some long for love
Most are happy
On digital drugs
Take my Barron, fairest son-
Don’t fail me, O freckled one.”
And sliding on his VR glasses,
Zuck said, “Let’s kick some frozen asses—”
Such a sight Greenland had not seen,
O, it glued them to their screens,
They gave all access and permissions,
To watch Mark come, in wild visions
Unicorns shot from his glands,
(That well, did know, Priscilla Chan)
Crying, “I am no mere coder bro-
I’m a Generalissimo…!”
“It’s nice,” said Zuck, “When countries tank,
You rise so quickly through the ranks…”
And then, O lord, could not resist-
Sang, “You don’t wanna step wit’ dis.”
And as the island fell entranced-
Don sent a demon, there to dance
Yes, as all teetered on the brink,
Down flew BlackRock’s Larry Finke.
“I come here selling climate cover,
To every mother, every lover…
Give all of your cash to me—
Yadda, bladda: ESG!”
“What,” they asked, “Is ESG?”
“Environmental, Social and—
Governance!” said he, and
They laughed Larry into the sea.
🌊
So now, Don called up Judith Butler
His sister from another mother,
Rancor, word games, wrecking jest–
They were different from the rest
He said “Screw them so mightily,
With intersectionality—
Be you, Judy, mighty titan,
Smiting all with just a hyphen!”
“But Don,” she said, “You ding-a-ling,
A gruesome people’s perfect king,
Lately I’ve been wondering…
If gender is a real-ish thing.”
“In trackless relativities,
Wild things have I/they seen…
Haunting like an angel’s halo,
Truths, yes, from the OG: Plato—
If such a thing as pure abstraction,
Then my theories lose some traction,
Not to say there are no trans,
Or freckled rainbow-shooting glands…
But yes, beyond our craven swarms,
Shines a world of pure forms.”
“No you didn’t…”
“Donny, I did…”
“You make me hurt worse,
Than when I was a kid.”
🌲
Don had a problem-
The island still stood,
With songbirds and voles
In hushed birch-grove woods
Let’s visit with its creatures now
Who permafrost had spared the plough—
The Greater White-Fronted Goose-
The gentle Peary Caribou
The Arctic Fox and bumblebees —
All buzzing with impunity
As Don’s phone rings,
A call from Meta’s King:
“There’s good news and bad,
What would you like first?”
“My attention span’s short-
Give me both you jerk.”
“The Greenlanders are clicking,
Some are quite compliant-
But the Inuits think Barron,
Is a legendary giant
A demigod that they call
Naka-haga-kichee-mo…”
Thus spake the freckled
Generalissimo-
“What do I care,” said Don,
“If they think that he’s a Pooka?—
He’s studying at NYU–
That school by Dean and DeLuca.”
“Sad to say that ain’t so,”
said the Generalissimo,
“The boy, it seems, has notions of honor,
Perhaps related to a draft-dodging father,
He flew to fight the Inuit,
But they met him in a wintry blitz
Call them savage, call them mental:
They hold him in an ice hut temple.”
“My son, my heir, my fair-tressed boy!
Light of Israel – yet goy,
Special child, princely born,
Of my Queen who once did porn—
I’ll save him yes, I’ll get it done–
With burgers and ten thousand buns,
Tanks of mayo, crates of cheese-
Bring these Nanuks to their knees.”
🔪
Now night came over the White House
Anguished cries from Melania Knaus
Not since the wails of Iphigenia
Had ululations gone much higher
Across the lawns, all fed with Brawndo
Rang her awful tolling sorrow
Love of a mother for her son,
The one thing money ain’t undone—
“I took your foul, disgusting sex
I made my bed, I laid my bets,
Let Biden raid my panty drawer
The FBI paint me their whore—
At least Grimes has her songing,
After Elon’s demon donging—
If you don’t bring my Barron back
I’ll plant a steak knife in your back.”
🍔
And so Don, democracy’s bane,
Took off in a cargo plane—
A massive Lockheed beast,
Packed with food for his feast
On the ice he settled down,
Right beside the native town
And Marines with tired eyes,
Boiled up oil for French Fries,
And greatest pains were taken,
For the crispiest of bacon,
And there in the permafrost:
Giant drums of secret sauce,
Tempting tribes from near and far
To Donald’s gleaming Burger Bar
They’d never seen so much damn food,
Used to moss and caribou-
Two dozen burgers for each man…
Then the awfulness began.
All the blood goes to their stomachs
Crumbled, retching, very flummoxed
No such thing, a free buffet–
They learned, alas, the hardest way
And Donald danced, half like a viper-
Half a child in his diaper
Demanding of the dying tribe,
“Where’s my son, is he alive?”
“You’re his father?”
“So it seems.”
Then, stranger than the stuff of dreams
Out now, crept, the Temple Priests–
Cloaked in fur of Polar Bear,
Almost like they weren’t there,
They slit the throats of Don’s Marines,
With bone knives, that blood-red gleamed
In air so cold it was almost painless-
They castrated the orange Uranus
As he crumbled in submission,
Donald sent a last transmission-
“This ain’t bullshit, this ain’t bluster:
Save me, now, O Judith Butler.”
✈️
She flew fast in a Hercules,
And thought of names, that always ring—
Midas Touch, Achilles heel-
Isaac who the knife did feel,
How Cain killed Abel,
And Rosy fingered Dawn,
She thought of them all,
Until the moon was gone
Below she saw the BlackRock boys
Freezing, wretched, mired–
Forgotten on the beaches,
Gathered round a sign:
“A Kushner Homes Community,”
It said, and Judith gasped in horror,
Because the same sign also said:
Proudly Rebuilding Gaza.
And just when their misery–
Could no more appall us,
The bankers set upon each other-
With bizarre financial products
They’d made a coin pegged to the price
Of baby seal blubber–
Multiplied by the deathbed weight
Of Steven Schwartzman’s mother
Divided by the number
Of ping-pong balls it takes,
To fill the San Andreas fault
After the Big Earthquake
Raised yet to the power!
Of the lice in all their hair
This was all they knew to do…
Financialize despair,
Shit in open ditches,
Gambling on Thunder,
This cartoon of humanity
Awaited Judith Butler.
“I find it very nice,” she said,
“Finally, some justice…”
As gnawing on a buttered shoe,
A BlackRock girl hissed, “Trust us.”
Then took her to an igloo,
In the heart of the morass…
Where Jared and Ivanka
Made Beast With Two Backs-
👺
But nothing in this life
Comes quite as we’d expect:
Ivanka sports a latex dong—
Marked: “Made in Bangladesh”
Judith said, “All go with God-
Hey, I don’t mean to bother-
But Ivanka did you hear about-
What befell your father?”
Ivanka’s face, in total shock:
Don’s fate, she hadn’t known it—
“Well, finish up your shadow-play,
Stuff him good and happy-
Then meet me by the chopper that,
Identifies as an Apache.”
I’d like to break from meter now,
Said the pen to poet–
For as they flew into the north,
All form died as they’d known it:
🤍
Whiteness,
whiteness,
white…
Like not a drop of color, white like white on white on white, and the sun kicking off a zillion crystals of ice, that’ll burn out both your eyes—
Whiter than white so to drive you crazy fresh off fucking by your Lady—
“Play Tupac,” said Jared Kushner, as if the Chopper was his Mercedes, but it had no AI personal assistant, it replied just with whirring blades—
Deeper, further, over Sisimiut and Qaqortoq and Ittoqqortoormiit—
And Uummannaq and Tasiliaq and Oqaatsut—
And then fair Ivanka, was first to see it--
🥓
A slick of yellow, like a clot-
And giving Jared’s hand a squeeze,
She pointed down below and said,
Darling, it’s American cheese!”
Yes down there was the wreck
Of Donald’s Fyre Fest—
Feces, vomit, lives all taken—
Buzzard-swarming slabs of bacon
All three share a cosmic frown,
As their Apache hovers down—
Into this atrocity,
Reader, won’t you walk with me…?
🦭
The polar ice was thick, not thin
Below it, Donald met Barron-
Wearing only seal skins, gaunt—
Quiet, sullen, was his want
“My father,” he said-
After a spell,
“I didn’t really think,
You’d come to this hell.”
“A king needs an heir,
Even Yahweh had Jesus,
Strange that this cost me,
Most of my penis…”
“I’ll code you a new one”
Said Barron, so sweet,
“It ejaculates BitCoin,
You can cum for a week.”
“Boy,” raged Don, “Stop shitting me,
I fuck in gross reality.”
“And you’ll be the best, an OnlyFans hero…”
What isn’t real, about ones and zeros?”
He reached into his bag,
Gave Don his best headset—
And optics whirred,
And data purred,
And Donald, now did gladly stare-
At a vision of his youthful hair
He fondled his digital self,
Like a toy truck from Tonka,
Didn’t even stir as in–
Came Jared, Judith and Ivanka
🌈
Judith said:
“What a fucking brain-bender-
Out on the wild edge of gender,
But each term has a four-year clock,
Let him spend his with a digital cock…”
“And Barron, crying sweet Hosannah,
Let’s get you home now, to your Mama-
Dress you up in something proper,
In the warm womb of my chopper–
Leave your Dad to Onan’s vice,
And VR’s wicked poltergeist.”
The Inuit gave happy cries,
That Judith felt performative
But as their voices rose, in time
She only wanted more of them
And Jared Kushner, well he-
Wept down his Cucinelli,
Face so tender, almost fetching
This after his Bangladeshing
Then up into the sky they flew
A many-splendored wrecking crew
Smiles gracing every mouth
Fast they fleeted, to Melania Knaus
And if this poem means anything
On her face we now can see—
(Apache touching White House lawn)
The love of a mother, for her son
🌹
Melania said, “What will we tell,
The beast they call, American People?”
“We’ll say he fell so valiantly,
Make of him a Kennedy,
A Marilyn of Stormy Daniels,
So they both live on as fables.”
“I like you Judith,” said Ivanka,
“Wanna buy a condo in Gaza?
Swedish kitchens, German stoves
On Palestine’s old olive groves!
We are building a Four Seasons-
Gotta hop now, for this reason.”
And then in the Garden Rose
Where LBJ once drained his hose
And Reagan spoke to jellybeans,
And Obama for Obama, preened-
And Billy hid from Hillary—
The women grinned, unselfishly
And holding hands, they felt complete
A vision of Minoan Crete.
“Why?” said Melania, “You no—
Like condos in Gaza City?”
“Still,” thought Judith…
“She’s real pretty.”