President Donald Trump holds a Bible as he visits outside St. John's Church across Lafayette Park from the White House Monday, June 1.
President Donald Trump holds a Bible as he visits outside St. John's Church across Lafayette Park from the White House Monday, June 1. Credit: AP

The image of President Donald Trump wrapping himself up in the Bible at a church where Lincoln prayed for a photo op while peaceful protestors were forcefully cleared by the police is the final straw. It inspired the following poem.

‘Ode to My Captain’

O Captain! my Captain! the photo opt is done.

You came out of your bunker,

To see the setting sun.

Your mighty ship is sinking

As your whiteness pales,

And Americans are thinking

That you belong in jail.

O Captain! my Captain! I pray that all is lost.

Your gut is enormous,

Thoughtless and it costs.

When the looting starts the shooting starts,

From the killing of George Floyd.

It is on your watch, my captain,

That fact you cannot avoid.

With our country so divided

By nativists spewing hate,

Even the “news” on Fox

Can’t save you from your fate.

O Captain! my Captain! play a victim of the deep state.

Where “the enemy” is out to get you and seal your fate

But you will emerge victorious within a news cycle or two

As forgotten Americans relate to your victimization

And worship my Captain as only fools can do

The rage coming from the street

Fanned by your dog whistles,

Will not be extinguished

By deploying ballistic missiles.

To rally the people to praise you

For the growth of their 401ks.

Most Americans in their hearts

Know that it is not okay.

Psychopath or sociopath,

Which is it to be?

Your soul so ugly

It is all the same to me.

Your politics of division

You no longer get to dance

Americans need to make a decision

And each of us take a stance.

Was it the constant barrage of lies

The bungling of the pandemic?

The demonizing of those who dissent,

From your never-ending polemic

O Captain! my Captain! our fearful trip is done,

The ship has weather’d every rack, the game show

cannot be won;

But O heart! heart! heart!

O the bleeding drops of red.

Where my Captain lies.

Shivering in his bed.

My captain does not answer, his lips are pale and still,

For totalitarianism cannot be allowed to vanquish free will.

Lawrence Abrams, of Becket, is the author of two books, “The Grievance” and “Twenty Life Lessons.” He is a retired founding principal who dedicated his career to reforming the NYC school system.