O Donald Trump, Woe Donald Trump

“It is not an art poem. It is a bardic declamation coming out of a tradition that speaks social truth direct to power – hot, rough, and on the hoof.”

O Donald Trump, Woe Donald Trump, from Alastair McIntosh to Donald Trump on a personal basis, published on Bella Caledonia, an online magazine exploring ideas of independence, self-determination and autonomy.

It starts,

O Donald Trump
It was my own old mother’s taxi driver
on the Isle of Lewis
who said he lives next
to your old mother’s house
on the Isle of Lewis
That made me think
how close we are
being separated by
just two mothers
and one Stornoway taxi


For those of you who don’t know, Donald Trump, of Trump Towers, etc., wants to create a major new Trump branded golf and leisure resort at Menie in Aberdeenshire dispossessing locals and over-running a site of special scientific interest.

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