The Ballad of Thom Tillis

A Poem

In Carolina’s heart, where patriots stand,
Thom Tillis strides, a senator grand.
A Republican cloak, he wears with flair,
But conservatives cry, “Is anything there?”
For Ed Martin, Trump’s pick, bold and true,
Tillis spits on them—what’s an American to do?

He speaks of Jay Six, with a furrowed brow,
“Rioters disgraced us,” he scolds us now.
Yet irony drips from his polished crown,
He knows feds and Antifa helped it go down,

He blocks our champion, Martin’s strong hand,
To guard D.C.’s courts for the swamp’s demands.

Once he cheered for tariffs, then flipped his tune,
His beliefs lifted off like an untethered balloon,
“Uncertainty harms,” he cried to the press,
But his baffling ways leave us in distress.
A border wall foe, till pressure arose,
Then grudgingly nodded, as history shows.

For Mueller he fought, to shield from the fray,
While real Americans felt a stinging betray.
Red flags he backed, and dreamers’ sweet cause,
A “pathway” to stay, defying our laws.
Climate’s his chant, a liberal’s soft hymn,
Yet he dons the red tie—how ironic, how grim!

Threats came from afar, a man in Thailand,
Tillis stood firm, but his heart’s not our land.
If the IC says to do it, his soul seems to sway,
To the swamp’s murky call, where the uniparty plays.
Ed Martin, our hope, for justice’s fight,
Tillis shuts the door, in the Senate’s dim light.

Oh, Thom, why forsake the voters you need?
In ’26, we’ll rise, plant a patriot’s seed.
Your failure stinks, like a fart in the dark,
A GOP mask, but no American spark.
For Martin we cheer, for Trump we stand tall,
But Tillis’s shadow looms, a deep state stall.