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