Iteration

Donald wept through the proceedings and his tears soaked through the canvas that Cloaked his twisted face and stained his orange jumpsuit where With such rare distinction he once displayed The evidence of His outstanding contributions to the maintenance of a kingdom come But those days are gone, he's nothing more than a number On a docket thick with shareholders and engineers PR firms, politicians, war-profiteers "How the fuck did I end up here? This just isn't fair It ain't no place for a billionaire!" And he searches for the words to stop this table in mid-turn Like "We are but old men" and "We only did what we were told" Laughter from the gallery drowns out these vestiges Of a profession's oldest defense "The court will direct The record to reflect Compliments from the bench You sir, are central casting's crowning achievement And for your outstanding performance In a comedic role I'd like to dedicate the findings Of the jury to the dead" How can one man ever repay A debt so appalling? Can't gouge ten thousand eyes From a single head, so I Think we should observe a sentence that will serve To satisfy both a sense of function and poetry So you will spend the rest of your days drenched in sweat Your face drawn in a rictus of terror as you remove another buried landmine fuse Meanwhile 100 yards back Behind the sandbags A legless foreman Pulls the trigger on a red megaphone Squelching feedback, drunken laughter Broken English, dead daughter's picture Time and tide, no one can anticipate The inevitable waves of change