Sybil Bruncheon's People and Poetry...

Puckered lips and rasping snarl, Squinty eyes and ready quarrel, Crab-like gestures, orange pout, Greasy handshake, bulbous snout.

Cotton candy ‘stead of hair. Bloated torso but no heart there. Sawed in half you’d find some guts, Jimmy Hoffa, a stack of smuts.

And when he slithers ‘cross the floor, There’s a trail of slime, and maybe gore. He’ll grab your privates; no invite needed. Repeated lawsuits, threats unheeded.

Billions? Millions? Maybe less. Angst and anger, viral stress. He lives for fame and adoration. And bilks his minions, rapes the nation.

“I’ll drain the swamp! I swear! I promise. And appoint fair judges, like Clarence Thomas." Thanks, red-voters, for your behemoth-mess… Who is this monster? Can you guess?

[Want to read other stories here on SybilSez.com? Just enter any topic that pops into your head in the "search" window on the upper right! Who knows what might come up?...and feel free to share them with your friends!]