windbag

Trump bluffs compulsively and thinks he's smart
to play the nomination like a game
in which duplicity's extolled as "art"
and only losers have a sense of shame
tomorrow, he might try another tack
alliances dissolve, by whim or force
the wife who kept him squealing in the sack
was counting down the nights 'til the divorce
a changing world demands a steady hand
disastrous wars his rhetoric forebodes
who'll disobey war-criminal commands
were such a man to hold the missile codes
he lies about his wealth and calls it "class"
but clueless minions run to kiss his ass