by S.P. Somtow
The Russians may be hacking our elections,
And having secret meetings in Trump tower,
But I’m seduced by tastier confections
And can resist the news — for one whole hour.
For sixty minutes, I don’t fear the world
Will be subsumed in fiery climate change
For when the Night’s King his ice-javelin hurled
A winter worse than nuclear came in range.
Donald and Kim might be comparing dicks,
But Euron Greyjoy’s penis takes the cake,
A teleporting raven’s a quick fix
In lands where death and news are often fake.
Call me escapist scum! Say I’m a wanker!
I’d sooner see Danaerys than Ivanka.