Ketchup

Ketchup

Ketchup on the wall.

What a way to fall!

He can’t get out of it,

He threw a hissy fit.

It’s never a good look,

When they throw the book.

A crying shame it is,

False records for his biz.

Stormy ain’t his type,

After all the hype.

If he don’t make his bail,

It’s Riker’s Island Jail.

Some say he’s innocent,

Of all the laws that he bent.

MAGA sends their dough,

For what they don’t even know.

May justice still be served,

And decency preserved.

I oughta shed a tear,

And drink another beer.

LDT March 31, ‘23

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