By Robert S. Becker

He lies and dodges, struts and preens,
Icy, disingenuous machine,
Then beats upon his Baneful breast:
 
The richest one must be the best;
Award the power to him who prays
That Mormon saints rule End of Days;
With Armageddon looming near
Let’s unzip magic underwear.
My needy bosom worships God
To master how to scrape and nod:
Campaigns are made by fools like me
And billionaires who’ll set us free.
What! Re-elect that Muslim fraud
That wonder boy, lionized abroad.
No alien this bishop shall hogtie,
Just Utah mandates from on high.
Was there ever, or will likely be,
A president more pious than me?

So spake the apostate Mitten,
And suckered masses were smitten.
For only fools held by this thrall
Let rank pandering win it all.
Will besieged democracy
Fall to parasitic hypocrisy?
Do religion and politics mix, 
Besmirched with unchristian tricks?
Even Dubya’s assault on reason
Ne’er backed baptism out of season.
Not only could Romney be worse,
His chicanery tests my verse:
We thought Dubya broke the mold
But Romney-Ryan: Oy gevalt.  

 For "inspiration” for this satiric verse, look no further than Joyce Kilmer’s “Trees” – one of the most vilified, parodied excrescences in the language.