It’s 2016 and candidates meet,
with Trump on the front lines
and everybody else
has dropped dead on their feet.
The dropping started with Jindal,
with Webb, with Chafee,
put this pick of the crop
doesn’t seem better than others.
You got Hillary flip-flopping
more than a fish out of water,
and Rubio and Cruz going after each other
with Spanish word fodder.
(Not that the former can talk much faster,
a Twix bar got the better of him, and his molar)
Please clap for Jeb Bush, he’s still in it too,
(although he may be out of it soon).
Bernie’s wagging his finger at Lewis’s memory,
but he didn’t see him do it,
so how could it matter anyway?
Kasich’s been pandering
to the moderate righters,
while Trumps face gets redder
each time he mentions the Towers.
With all of this noise, this motion happening,
Carson’s in a corner, as calm as Buddha
Author’s Note: This poem is up to date on the 2016 United States Presidential race as of 2/14/16.