The King in Orange or This Rectum Runs the Spectrum

He, brought up in the green,
with spoons of silver in his mouth,
would Yellow Fever ne'er encounter.
Black Death...? Nope! Nor drouth.
     All businesses bequeath'd to him
he ran into the red,
which left his dad and mother blue
(who're Mary Anne 'n' Fred.)
      His soul...? It runs to shades of gray,
all bordering on black.
The candidates he backs...? Fa-a-ar red.
(Of those there's ne'er a lack.)
     His offspring...? White supremacists.
His dermis he terms tan.
His thatch is prematurely blonde.
He's psycho-delic, man!

Gerald FitzSpoon

A stamen...? A pistil...? This circle is hesitant.
Group granting succor where Bubbe's a resident.
     Transgender community / Gran's tender community

Pentel Puns: Games Führers Play: Exquisite Corpse

Recollecting a Loser

Not Kublai Khan in Xanadu;
Not Lincoln in the Bardo.
Not Conway, Hugh at Shangri-la
was Drumpf at MAGA-lardo.
In days to come, recalling Drumpf,
that awful autocrat,
think Bonaparte at Waterloo.
Think Casey at the Bat.