Poetic Injustice

From our political correspondent Dorothy "Lottie" Dawe:

If you thought Trump’s recent press conference was ludicrous, you should have seen the president-elect’s first meeting with the White House Poet Corps.  It turns out that most of the poets are now card-carrying members of Poets Against Trump, and that reality incensed Trump.
 
At one point Trump got into a heated exchange with the world’s leading scholar on Emmett Lee Dickinson (Emily Dickinson’s third cousin, twice removed – at her request).
 
“You publish fake poems,” he barked.  “Fake poems!”  Of course, that could not be further from the truth.  

As a result of the heated meeting with the poets, Trump had to scrape the bottom of the barrel to find a poet willing to write an official poem for his inUGHuration.  Have you read the poem?  (HERE).  It is god-awful.
 
First, the poet, Joseph Charles McKenzie, is a failed advertising executive who wrote insipid catchphrases for products advertised on Scottish TV.  As a result, McKenzie lifted the opening lines for his poem from his advertising campaign for kilt liners for men:

The opening lines to the poem:

​Come out for the Domhnall, ye brave men and proud,
The scion of Torquil and best of MacLeod!

The lines from the Kilt-liner ad:

Dress out in the Domhnall, ye brave men & proud
Liners for the wee-handed (not well-endowed)!
​

The poem then continues with hollow bombast and bizarre bluster.  The poem is full of sound and fury, signifying nothing more than pure jiggery-pokery.  To be honest, some of the lines are so absurd that the poem should come illustrated with a picture of Trump sitting with his beloved Taco Bowl.

Of course, the poem -- called "Pibroch of the Domhnall" -- is best described by lines written in the late-1800s by Emmett Lee Dickinson called "It piles on Bombast to its close" (below on the left). Dicksinson's poem inspired third cousin Emily to pen her poem "To pile like Thunder to its close" (below on the right). 
​

By Emmett Lee Dickinson:
 
It piles on Bombast to its close
Then grumbles mad away
With Everything bunk and bluster
This – is bad Poetry –
 
Or Jiggery Pokery – the two connected come –
For both or either prove –
Hilarious, absurd, and campy –
And Both are pure Apple Sauce –

By Emily Dickinson:
 
To pile like Thunder to its close
Then crumble grand away
While Everything created hid
This – would be Poetry –

Or Love – the two coeval come –
We both and neither prove –
Experience either and consume –
For None see God and live –