September, 2017


In a limerick, one can’t get long-winded
But our leader wants DACA rescinded.
Hatch and Ryan say “No!
Don’t make those kids go!”,
Harming innocent lives if it ended.


An insanity of our sad time
Is the topic of this little rhyme.
I’m sad to report
Fairooz back in court
Because Sessions thinks laughter’s a crime.


Kim Jong Un is not a Trump pal.
Fight a duel? Yes. Maybe they shall.
To a Morricone tune,
They should meet at High Noon,
And blow up the O.K. Corral.


One-thousand two hundred and thirty-four
Days until the next inauguration.
We celebrate this Labor Day vacation.
Acknowledge bloody struggles of before.

As bosses squeeze us, wanting more for less,
And lobby for the sham of “right to work”
Consolidating power with a smirk.
Our Unity comes under more duress.

The history? Busting unions, busting heads.
The Reagan era trashing of our Cause.
The gutting of our whistle-blowing laws.
The CEOs so cozy with the Feds.

In solidarity we must keep up the fight.
Oh, Workers of the World – Unite!


The Perfect Party.
A great To-Do
‘Cause no one mentioned


A new book out from HRC
Looks at losing the presidency.
How could it be clearer.
The “why”s in the mirror,
(Plus that Vast Right-Wing Conspiracy).

From the Caribbean up to Key West
Record winds put lives to the test.
Now Hurricane Irma
Levels the Terra Firma.
Mother Nature, please. Give it a rest.

In her Thursday speech, Betsy DeVos
Made abuse victim advocates cross.
Why do chicks need protections?
Hey, dudes get erections.
Guess she showed all those whiners who’s boss!

The huge Equifax data breach
Put the secrets of millions in reach.
But before we got told,
The bosses’ stock sold.
Someone please rinse their souls out with bleach.

Deserted streets wait for the hellish deluge.
As bands of red highlight an exodus.
No gas, no food, no mercy from the crush,
As seven million people seek their refuge.

Oh “awesome”, how sadly overused a word you are.
A drink, a song, a day, so overpraised.
Behold the awesomeness of islands razed.
This awesome former life. This awesome scar.

Are we complicit in the wind and flood,
Or does our grief fall from a greater hand.
Existences reduced to mud and sand.
A rider to Life’s Lease in tears and blood.

No wondering How or Why when in the Where.
Oh Lord, if You exist, please, hear our prayer.

Some raise up their fists and curse.
Still others cite theories, perverse.
But each one will say
They remember the day
When everything changed. For the worse.

Wake up. Arise. Greet the morn.
One more poem about to be born.
Sad to say I’m in bed,
And stuck in my head
Is the thought of Ted Cruz “liking” porn.

In the Senate, ol’ Bern’s still a Player.
A Progressive Vermont dragon slayer.
He wants to kick ass
On the Healthcare morass.
Go Bernie! Bring home Single Payer!

The news we get from online links
Rarely changes what anyone thinks.
What we see is selected
Based on data collected,
And the “comments” part usually stinks.

Healthcare for All. Keeping score?
Some in Congress say Yes! with a roar.
Then, the ones who say “no”,
Grab the Lobbyists dough,
And show clearly who they’re working for.

Secret servers. A huge data hack.
Flees the country but forced to come back.
MSM cannot handle
The Awan brothers scandal.
Who is keeping us off of this track?

Now begins the investigation
Of a smoke, and flame-filled situation.
Without pause or doubt,
Our hearts all go out
To the victims of Parsons Green Station.

At podium on Emmy Night
Sean Spicer faced the nation.
To celebrate his tenure
As Head of Obfuscation.

Press Secretary to Punch Line
He’s still a blowin’ smoke.
Too bad the greater populace
Was not in upon the joke.

He lied and tap danced for his boss.
Accusing. Reprimanding.
How could the Hollywood Elite
Assist with his “rebranding”.

I guess this only goes to show
This is a show, indeed.
And all the actors on both sides
Go to one trough to feed.

When times are bad
And things get scary…
Throw money at
The Military.
(Burma Shame)

Lashed out against corrupt and roguish states.
Our sovereign stood before United Nations,
To stares and folded arms of delegations,
While threatening enemies with fiery fates.

A shallow nod to harmony and care
Then brags of greater spending on defense,
And halting aid without fair recompense.
Down in his Valley of Disrepair,

Diplomacy lost to belligerence.
While Bibi found it bold, more others sinister.
I quote the Swedish Foreign Minister:
Wrong speech, wrong time, to the wrong audience.

The message: Tho we wish our allies well,
We will look out for us. You should as well.

Play well with others?
That thought’s on the shelf.
The man cannot even
Play well with himself.
(Burma Shame)

Will fire rain down from the sky?
Will innocent folks have to die?
I won’t say the names of
Those who play the games of
“I know you are, but what am I”

Of the folly of war, one learns
From the new ‘Nam war flick by Ken Burns.
The toll of lives lost.
The damage, the cost,
Yet, and sadly, it’s how the world turns.

With the White House confounded by glitches,
And his policies riddled with hitches,
There’s so much amiss,
But still time to diss
Those kneeling football sons of bitches.

So the Anthem Debate has begun:
Who will stand. Who will kneel. (What fun.)
But amidst all the mayhem,
Ol’ Cassidy & Graham
Tried a Health Care repeal end run.

There are two Puerto Ricos it seems:
One’s flood waters burst at the seams.
The crisis it faced
Left millions displaced.
The other exists in Trump’s dreams.

In victory, let’s hear it for
The one who’s morals will not budge,
The Christian Theocratic Judge
The pistol packer named Roy Moore.

When we sing Alabammy Bound,
We mean bound up by Moore’s beliefs,
His putting God in legal briefs –
That is, the God that – he – has found.

What Senate laws will this man make
To pander to his base’s fears
Did God tell him to lock up queers
And burn the Heathens at the stake.

Roy Moore will not dictate to me.
God made me, but God made me free.

There once was a fellow named Hugh.
On a round satin bed he would screw.
In his time, he was bold.
With his nude centerfold.
But we read for the articles, too.

Getting word of the new Trump Tax Plan.
Full of breaks for the Corporate Man.
We’ll get soaked in vermillion
To the tune of two trillion,
And of course, he’s the Plan’s biggest fan.

After too many a chartered flight,
There’s a cabinet opening tonight.
This new resignation
For the Health of our nation
Goes to show that the Price was not right.



Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s