Barack, Pumpkin Eater

Barack, Pumpkin Eater

I rode a pony into your consciousness.

Not really.

It was neither a pony nor your mind.

It was a tank in my own brain,

Shooting down the bearded killers in Issis.

The president dropped bombs on them

In all the wrong places

And hid them under the blanket

With his lies, his pumpkin pie

And his attempt to run a country with

The mind of a telephone booth,

The monopoly simplicity of a community


The support of well-intentioned accidental


Decapitation is not thoughtless.

It is headless.

He didn’t plan for it

When he removed our troops from Iraq.

Barack, Barack  pumpkin eater

Was the president of a country and couldn’t keep her.

He put us in a pumpkin shell

And we went with his best intentions straight to hell.

The views expressed in this opinion article are solely those of their author and are not necessarily either shared or endorsed by

About the author

David Lawrence

David Lawrence

David Lawrence has a Ph.D. in literature. He has published over 200 blogs, 600 poems, a memoir “The King of White-Collar Boxing,” several books of poems, including “Lane Changes.” Both can be purchased on He was a professional boxer and a CEO. Last year he was listed in New York Magazine as the 41st reason to love New York.

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