He grinned, he fell over, he stood up, he swooned.
Someone  bent over, he thought he was mooned.
His jaw hung slack, he dribbled, he drooled.
He dug in his diaper, he played with his stool.
He wasn't aware that he wasn't aware,
like a big idiot, he stood there and stared.
He heard something rumble, he thought he had gas.
People were backing away like it came from his a*s.
Someone was whispering in his inner ear,
deliver the message Joe, they came here to hear.
He stammered he stuttered, he hemmed and hawed.
To return to reality back to his senses he clawed.
He knew there was some reason why he was here.
But right at the moment he wasn't thinking to clear.
The crowd devolved into chaos, Joe was a joke.
Joe stood at the podium, he was going for broke.
He wished for divine intervention, he needed Barack.
Or maybe from Hunter, a glass dick full of crack.
The message wasn't delivered, he forgot what to say.
I want ice cream he thought as he shuffled away
He was now hearing titters, gales of laughter.
His inner ear was asking him, what was the matter.
This all seemed so familiar, like he'd been here before.
He looked down at his feet then he fell on the floor.
He laid there and dithered, till Jill came to his aid.
He was thinking he was gonna get lucky maybe getting laid.
Jill brushed off his hands, then slapped his face.
Get back on your feet she said, you're such a disgrace.
He rolled to his knees, he crawled towards the door.
He thought being Baracks puppet wasn't fun anymore.
The crowd never took pity, the cameras kept rolling.
He heard someone yell, you've got a head, use it for bowling.
Back in the basement as he cried on Jill's shoulder.
As his tears quickly froze he realized there's nothing much colder.
D.L. Crockett -- 1/29/24