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Go Back to Bed, Obama

Go Back to Bed, Obama


A girl at Gleason’s Boxing Gym is wearing a T-shirt—

Obama, the drama,

Strutting like a broken footed llama in the Andes

Of his lies.


Obama is the absence of plot in a dance of characters.

He is the play within the play that fails to have the conscience

Of a king.

Hamlet was betrayed by Claudius who became

Our modern Obama.


Stupid is as stupid dresses.

The lark of the gym girl’s failure is the flight of the country’s


How many veterans must die before she closes her eyes

To our President’s hype?


How many times must Obama blame the Republicans

For his own divisiveness?


He doesn’t believe in death panels but he has put

A communist grid around our heads

And killed us with governmental excess and attention.


He lies.

He isn’t shy.

We die beneath the weight of his big government.


I get sties in my eyes when I look at his dissemblance.

The liberal Washington Post points out his Pinocchio’s.

He is a wooden head.


Who else would want to rule the world by deduction,

Ignoring the inductive reasoning of pragmatic intelligence.


Obama, put on your pajamas and go back to bed where

You can’t hurt anyone except Michelle who has to swallow

Your warped rhetoric.

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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