The Obama Poem Of The Year!

The Obama Poem Of The Year!

 Budget schmudget, there’s no need,
There’s always lots of cash.
Call the Chinese, print some more,
Or tax the middle class.

Then spend our hard-earned cash you take,
On Solyndrish Green Fund waste.
And flush our billions down the drain,
In Obamacarish haste.

Five-hundred million website bucks,
A half a billion down.
Cause an idiot in Washington,
Spent it out of town.

“I gave you all a health care plan,
And exempted all my friends.”
The kindness that you show to them,
It seems it never ends.

Protect our border, that’s your job,
How much can we take?
Millions more for us to feed,
With Marie’s proverbial cake?

And what I really want to know,
Without appearing rude.
Is when everyone’s on food stamps,
Who’ll grow all the food.

At the current rate the debt you make,
By the time we get you parted.
Exceeds the presidential total,
Since the time our country started.

There are some who still believe you,
Who think that free is nice.
Who don’t seem to grasp the concept,
That there always is a price.

A price too high for us to bear,
A debt we’ll have to shirk.
A price that you agreed to pay,
While we were all at work.

So would you hire you, you think?
Oh no I doubt you would.
An applicant who would not show you,
Why he thinks he’s good?

An applicant who talks a lot,
But doesn’t say a thing.
Who weakens us at every turn,
And seems to think he’s king.

Who would do that, who would think,
Our servant we elected?
Who’s turned his back on us so fast,
And left us unprotected.

We know you say you have a plan,
That’s our country’s curse.
We just want to see one,
That doesn’t make it worse.

Under par? Far off course?
Way out in the rough?
You can skip your foreign briefing,
but we’ve all seen enough.

Even democrats are desperate now,
They don’t know what to do.
Jump overboard and swim for shore,
Or sink the ship with you.

How do we know what you have done,
Where do we get our clues?
Same place as our president,
We hear it on the news.

But we’re the ones who live it,
Who’s skin is in the game.
Who pay the price of your deceit,
While you walk the walk of fame.

You’ve got the whole thing backwards.
You couldn’t understand.
You seems to think we work work for you,
Or else you’ve had this planned?

If you were just incompetent,
We’d all be glad to bet.
You’d get it right, a time or two,
But that hasn’t happened yet.

It’s getting hard, it’s getting bleak,
Your lies are getting old.
Your golf game might be thriving,
But your welcome’s growing cold.

So if you always do what’s best,
With your iphone and your pen.
Then why don’t you impeach yourself,
Amen, amen, amen!