Canto I
Last night I had a shock as I lay sleeping.
I felt myself by filth and flames surrounded,
With crawling skin, a sense of horror creeping.
As cracking whips and cries of anguish sounded,
The human misery that I was seeing,
Told me I was in Hell, by devils hounded.
I looked around; there was no hope of fleeing;
Unlike Dante, without Virgil to guide me.
Was this the final judgement of my being?
Was I in Hell although no court had tried me?
My heart was palpitating, stomach churning.
Was all appeal summarily denied me?
I’d been thrown in a ditch with fires burning.
And all around me flames were mounting higher.
Was there a lesson here I should be learning?
Was I down here because I was a liar?
Uncertain in which circle I was standing,
But then I saw a specter drawing nigher.
He raved and cried as if he were commanding
And yelling he would soon be suing Satan
For damages done to his lifelong branding.
“There’s nothing crooked in my life to straighten.
“So, why not punish those who persecuted
“This blameless man? Why is Joe Biden skatin’?”
“They hauled me into court and then they looted
“Ill-gotten gains accountants had not hidden,
“So, it’s their fault that I was prosecuted.”
And then I said out loud, although unbidden,
“Could this be Trump in hell with all the liars?
“Cast in a ditch that served as Satan’s midden?”
With all the fraudsters and the falsifiers, (2)
Environment designed just to bedevil,
Trump was condemned to the Inferno’s fires.
Yes, Donald Trump resided with the devil.
No ostentation in accommodation.
A place where only rats and worms could revel,
Strong evidence of final reprobation.

Canto II
“Don’t I know you?” I queried of the specter.
“Weren’t you that president of constant furor?
“The one who once burned up a lie detector?
“Of course, you know me, for I was your Führer;
“Who, everywhere, the whole world was acclaiming,
“Known far and wide as the corruption curer.”
With that his grimy trousers started flaming.
I rolled him in sewage ‘til they stopped smoking,
Though new fires here and there resisted taming.
The rising smoke turned Donald’s voice to croaking.
“This happens every time that I start speaking.”
“If God is just, then I would not be choking.”
With flaming flatulence and trousers reeking,
Trump scrambled to his feet and went off screaming
For the lost power he spent his life seeking.
Without his sycophants to praise his scheming.
And, as his trousers constantly ignited,
He slogged through sewage, howling and blaspheming.
A man, both God and Satan had indicted.
Was this the lesson carried by my dreaming?

Canto III
I woke up with a start from my night terror.
Was it God’s voice I heard as I was sleeping?
The vote I cast for Trump, a grievous error,
What, from the seeds I’d sown, would I be reaping? (3)

(1) I recommend reviewing Dante’s Inferno on Wikipedia for a summary of the various levels and who gets assigned to each of them.
(2) I have assigned Donald Trump to level 8 of the 9 levels, along with all the other fraudsters, falsifiers, sowers of civil strife and political discord, and family disunion. It almost seems that Dante anticipated this specific character would emerge at some point in history.
(3) See the Bible, New Testament: Galatians 6: 7-9.