The Ghost Of Awesome Heights


Obama sits alone in the darkened Oval Office, contemplating his failures, wondering what will happen if he loses the Senate, loses the Middle East, loses the legacy he climbed so many mountains to attain.

Obama’s watermelons are
Reduced to size of grapes
Whatever Hussein touches turns to dust
Alone in Oval Office in
The dark with tight closed drapes
He wishes he still had that Churchill bust
To give him strength and character
And bloody sweat and tears
He knows himself to be a petty fraud
That he has been elected to
A post beyond his years
And now his troubles turn to the abroad
He sits there in the dark a don’t
Disturb sign on the door
The teleprompter silent by his side
And wonders if he’s Hamlet
Or by chance he be the Moor
And wonders why there’s not a place to hide
The world is coming down on him
And all his friends are gone
And all his wounds a running, bleeding sore
With sleepless nights he walks the halls
Until the break of dawn
And birds awake with cries of Nevermore
His legacy is gone in flames
As down comes everything
His brilliance and his policies have failed
Iran has won and now he knows
He never will be King
Despite the awesome heights that he has scaled


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