The Lincoln Memorial Reflecting Pool, The President Donald J. Trump $1 Coin, The Arc de Trump, The White House State Ballroom —
All feats of greatness!
The Iran War, The loss of life And limb of U.S. Troops, of Iranian civilians, of Ukrainians and Russians, Soaring gas prices, Economically destructive tariffs, Separating innocent children from parents, Ignoring due process, ignoring Federal law —
Here is the ninth of Zumwalt’s revisions to his set of ten poems in his Sassoon Collection.
ix. Fight to our Finish
The bums came back. Pundits played and bites were flying. The yearning journalists threshed the backlit words To trash the bickering brutes who’d refrained from agreeing And hear the shuffled music of fizzled-out accords. Of all the waste and nonsense they have brought This moment is the lowest. (So we thought.)
Thumbing their noses across the aisle Shunning those who break rank to deal, Making consent plainly futile.
I heard the yammering journalists grunt and squeal; And with their trusting viewers turned and went To spew harmless venom at our government
— zumwalt (2011, revised 2026)
Admin’s Note: This is the ninth piece in Zumwalt’s ten-poem tribute to poet Siegfried Sassoon, The Sassoon Collection, originally written in 2011, recently revised. Fight to our Finish is based on Sassoon’s Fight to a Finish. In this transformation, Zumwalt swaps Sassoon’s returning soldiers and jingoistic press (“The boys came back. Bands played and flags were flying. / And Yellow-Pressmen thronged the sunlit street”) for combative politicians and pundits (“The bums came back. Pundits played and bites were flying”), adding in a few unkind words for the press out of general fairness.
Our President, the best ever, holds a hand of infinite possibilities, smiling over six Uno wild cards long after I have gone to sleep.
Our leader, shirtless, in the reflecting pool on a gold inflatable throne with his buddies, but he looks the best: youthful, trim, with a charming smile. He knows how to use AI to glorify! Such a cool communicator!
Maybe he can post an AI photo of a reopened Strait of Hormuz— that should scare the Revolutionary Guard.
Ramesses built a palace with four stone Ramesses, towering sixty-five feet facing the Nile.
Nero built a rotating dining room and a lake where a city used to be.
Kim Jong-il erected himself in each and every airport lobby, every schoolroom wall: watching, always watching, magnificent, thin.
And now we are finally catching up: The 250-foot Donald J. Trump Triumphal Arch, The Donald J. Trump Kennedy Center for the Performing Arts, Trump-class battleships, Trump Visas for the wealthy, Trump Coins, Trump Bills, Trump Passports, The Trump Presidential Library, which will be the greatest library anyone has ever seen.
The reflecting pool will be American flag blue, industrial grade. Not granite. Not ugly grey. True Blue!
He posts a picture of his own face beside Mount Rushmore, so even Hakeem Jeffries could understand.
Germany says the Americans have no strategy. But our President holds all the cards. The pool will be blue. He removes troops from Germany teaching Europe, Africa who is really the boss.
Brent crude is $129 a barrel. Just like the stock market, it keeps going up! JD Vance is shirtless. Marco Rubio is shirtless, grinning. They are all in the water. The greatest deal ever. So much better than the worst deal ever— the Obama deal he walked away from with its costly inspectors and wheelbarrows of money carted in.
Some moan and bitch, like my neighbor John, complaining about the price of gas. I wrote a letter to the FCC to kindly ask them to take care of John after they shut up Jimmy Kimmel.
My leader posts himself holding a gun, dominates Mount Rushmore, sits in his gold inflatable chair while the others, all shirtless, all grinning, know best how to tread water.
The pool is six feet deep at the center. The pool will be American flag blue. The administration is in the water. Not underwater. Not sunk. But if they do sink, I’ll gladly follow down deep, deep, and deeper, proudly breathless blue, with water in my ears, mouth and lungs.
He lied about what was in store, To launch a swift, two-hour war. But our boss won’t explain, Now we’re in for more pain in a far away place, In a very messy state with a lengthy, complicated, intricate case of having much, much more on our plate than we ever should have ever, ever, ever asked for.
Release the files but just in part — Deception’s Pathway lies Too raw for Headline’s hungry Spark The whole would scandalize As Cards dealt from some hidden Deck With watching eyes confined The Truth must flame out gradually To hide the Guilt entwined —
They loaded files on Friday night, Though not the total lot; The press was vexed by partial truths But that is what we got.
On Saturday fifteen were gone — One noticed from before: A president in gilded frame — A photo in a drawer.
What this all means to common folk Escapes my simple mind When wealth can build a mighty wall That shields them from their crime —
And if a few are put in jail That does us little good For those that still control the wealth Will raise the price of food.
The message here is pretty clear And one that fits my rhyme That money spent judiciously Protects — even the damnedest — most despicable — devils of our time.