trump Sonnets, Volume 6

His Middle Virus Soliloquy

January 2021 release, and review copies have been available since late July 2020.

Ken Waldman began writing this one in May 2020, almost immediately after finishing Volume 5, His Early Virus Monologues. This newest is a single long narrative poem in 63 pages, 125 sonnets total. Think Catch-22 meets the ghost of Hunter S. Thompson (who's been overcome by sonnets). A short, six-stanza/six-sonnet excerpt is below. And then Ken added two more stanzas from a few more pages into the book.

(In March 2020, Ken Waldman received a grant from the Puffin Foundation for his show Trump Sonnets or: How I've Taken on Donald Trump (and Won). The poems from this new book, and from Volume 5, and  the stories behind this new writing, will be integrated into the production as the show continues to evolve.)

Yes, approximately a quarter of the way into Volume 6, we have these stanzas

                                         .  .  .  I've thrown 
away so much of what Obama did—  
he didn't deserve the Nobel—I've said 

it so many times now that he wasted 
money on bad international deals 
and treaties. It was a license to steal 
for Mexico, China, the EU. Paste 
in any country you want. They tasted 
from our plate and didn't pay. So I feel 
real smart overturning what he did. Real 
smart. And Obamacare. First and latest 
to finally go. He wanted his last name 
on that, but it's going to go away 
forever. Have you noticed he's now blamed 
me and my administration for days, 
saying we haven't done what's his own fault. 
It's madness. If you want to put a halt  

to the Chinese virus, you have to plan 
for it. He left few supplies, no vaccine, 
and very few ventilator machines 
which keep people breathing. Who understands 
the inner workings? He's a Deep State man 
despite the skin color. I've never been 
racist, like others who can be. I've seen 
the great job Ben Carson does, greater than 
people realize. You know I defeated 
him and the others in the primaries. 
Terrible, the death in Georgia. I've said 
people shouldn't run in the streets. Very 
bad idea. You don't know who else is there 
watching over the neighborhood. I dare  

someone to name a president who cares 
for black people more than me. Honest Abe 
was pretty good, but he was unable 
to live through his complete term. I compare  
myself to him. His monuments are where 
I'll be. Add the Lincoln High Schools, labels 
of real success. I'm a very stable 
genius, just like my uncle. Everywhere 
there will be streets, roads, ways, and avenues. 
Even Martin Luther King has got those, 
plus a holiday—and people didn't choose 
him president. Trump knows all that he knows. 
Trump Boulevards and Trump Roads in all states 
of the union. I dream we'll dedicate

a month like April where I can visit
all my thoroughfares. Some renamed turnpikes
are an even better idea. I like  
that more. It's a dream I've had for a bit,  
along with my Mount Trumpmore. We'll build it  
in Florida or New Jersey, and strike  
a deal near one of my clubs. I'll have Mike  
Pence look into preliminaries, sit  
with local officials. I dream one day  
there will be a Donald Trump Museum  
with gold arches, pillars marbled with gray,  
a smaller-scale Roman coliseum  
near Augusta National Golf Club  
to observe and honor how I took up   

the sport and mastered it. I dream one day  
there will also be a Trump Museum  
to show all I did and where I came from  
to become commander-in-chief. I pray  
we'll find a spot here in D.C., away  
from the others, like my own Pentagon,  
but bigger. I dream of a space station  
complete with hotel on Mars. I have to stay  
four more years at least. This awful virus,  
coming right after the impeachment hoax,  
kept me from doing my most serious  
work. The disease can be lethal to folks  
who don't watch out, especially seniors.  
For months I've been steadfast, seeking a cure   

that will end this. How many committees  
have assembled so we can be normal  
again? Summer will be a return so fall  
will be our full reopening. Cities  
will be hosting baseball with crowds sitting  
close. I dream of August college football  
games right on schedule. The Mexico wall  
is rising big, thick, and black. I pity  
anyone dumb enough to try coming  
into this country. It can't be done now.  
We're transporting illegals and becoming  
once again the country I dream of. How  
great are we now? We're slowly getting there,  
but I need more time. Much more time. Nowhere   

in the world are people achieving what  
we have. But I'm dreaming of so much more. . .  .

And a few pages later, two more stanzas

[Boris] Johnson called yesterday to salute me
on our triumph. You know he was quite sick,
and could have died. It's not all politics,
our friendship. I love the UK—breezy
weather, great sports. Golf is a supremely 
skillful test on their coastal links. Tricky
wind, but I know to hit low, let balls kick
off mounds. I play in the high seventies,
and on good putting days can match my age,
which is a tremendous accomplishment
for anyone. We ought to take a page
from England and their royal government.
Kings and queens, dukes and duchesses, barons
and baronesses. Prime ministers are in 


the loop too, but are not kings. Boris is 
a good friend, and I'm glad he's still alive. 
I won't be getting sick, but I'd survive 
if it happens. No masks for me. Business 
as usual. We're reopening this 
great country of ours ASAP. Give 
me the credit. Mike Pence smartly arrived 
at this decision. The task force was his, 
and they did such great work. So much less dead 
than both the fake news and CDC feared. 
What was it Psycho Joe Scarborough said? 
Two or three million? I won't shed a tear 
if he or his blonde wife get the disease. 
He's more disgraceful than all the Chinese—