March, 2017


With days to go
At fourteen-oh-five
Please celebrate
Your being alive.


The days to go
Are Fourteen – O – Four.
Kellyanne Conway
Is a parlor house whore.


With days to go
At fourteen-oh-three
Don’t let 45
Put his hand on your knee.


With his “Yes Men” advisors in tow,
His First Lady is still a no-show.
Will Democracy thrive,
Or just rich guys survive –
Fourteen-Hundred & Two days to go.


Fourteen Hundred and One.
And the fun’s just begun!
Slashing budgets except for Defense.
He’s not qualified.
He big-talked, and lied.
Would we rather have President Pence?


There’s Fourteen Hundred Days!
Let’s hear Hip-Hip Hoorays!

(Except from people who are gay
Or came from countries far away
The scientists and teachers too,
Unlucky folks who get the flu,
And have no cash to see their Docs,
The bees all dying by the flock,
The Native folk who daily pray
On land where their ancestors lay,
Artistic folks who must create
And all the foreign heads of state,
The ones not deaf to those in need
Or fueled by power, lust and greed
The hearts that ache, the souls that grieve
The fools who want clean air to breathe
The sick, the scared, the sad, the old,
The folks who don’t do what they’re told.
The Eagle, Buffalo and Foxes
Those who don’t fit into boxes.
Made by those who claim to see
The truth about what you should be,
And those who think and those who feel
And have to beg for their next meal
Because they lost their safety net
To fund defense department debt,
And social justice league attorneys
And all of us who cast for Bernie.)

To those of you who’re left to cheer –
You have a pleasant day, m’ dear.


Thirteen hundred and ninety nine days
Until the Madness End.
Unless ,INC comes after your name,
Neil Gorsuch is not your friend.


Thirteen hundred and ninety eight
I ain’t got no more time for hate.


One thousand three hundred and ninety seven
Days til this administration ends.
With bitter arguments twixt families and friends
As whether it’s path leads to hell or heaven.

Emailed leaks and Russians fill the news
Alluding to and masking plans beneath.
Dark visionaries rotting Freedom’s Wreath.
Believe with all your heart the Truths you choose.

And as a rhyming counter of the days,
Distractions from the things left undiscussed –
This sad and crumbling edifice that is us.
The price a future generation pays.

My counting down – a mask for my confusion,
Lamenting every obvious conclusion.


Thirteen-ninety-six days to go
That health care vote was quite a show.
The Freedom Caucus had him eating crow.
Let’s hear it again for The Party of No.


The Tower where Mrs. Trump stays
Has a bill our society pays.
Barricades and 5-0
Costing mountains of dough
Thirteen hundred and ninety five days.


With the common folk he’s out of touch.
With their minimum wages and such.
Doesn’t care if you’re tired.
Freeze to death or get fired.
Vote ‘no’ on Neil Gorsuch.


Only 1,393 days to go.



Thirteen hundred and ninety two days
Until I hope we will be parting ways
With this pretender to an elevated station,
This avowed enemy of education,
Champion of deniers of science,
Advocate of self reliance
Unless you’re of the moneyed elite,
Or nourished at the lobbyist teat.
One-percent? Russian?
Pick up the phone. Otherwise, sorry.
Yer on yer own.
Man of the deal. Man of action.
Treating governance as a financial transaction.
Such a gamer. Such a kidder.
Selling legacies to the highest bidder.
Fearful of press, avoider of arts
Narcissistic whiffer of his own farts
Making America great again
Yes, let the deregulation begin!
Jobs! Jobs! Jobs! At any cost, growth!
A cynical mockery of a sacred oath.
Who’s woods these are, I think I know.
His house is in a gated village though.

Poems are made by fools like me.
But only God can make a tree.


Thirteen hundred and ninety one.
Celebrated, in brief, with rhyme.
Telling the truth’s not always fun,
But General Flynn – you should try it sometime.

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