An April Fool Easter confection.
No word here about that election.
May this rare combination
Bring our wounded nation
Renewal, rebirth, resurrection.
Our President’s latest tirade
Slaps on billions in tariffs on trade.
Are you sure that was wise?
We get more from them, guys.
What a April fool’s egg to get laid.
Scott Pruitt’s security bubble
Keeps him safely away from the trouble
His cronies create,
And allows him to skate
Past unravel, and rabble, and rubble.
Great walls of his’try, each in ways a dud,
In time torn down by those who’d be locked out.
But each in prime, invincible no doubt,
Of money made, and painted thick with blood.
Beyond the scant protection they afford,
Much more to say I did this: My Creation.
For coming years of ego satiation.
My name, my image, bright on every board.
But who’s to pay. To whom. How long, and where.
And in exchange, who falls between. Who loses.
Who gains by just the company he chooses.
And will the coming generations care.
Yet still too weak to hold off fear and sorrow.
No wall exists that can keep out tomorrow.
“Open Carry” your gun! Proud and tall!
But to some, this is impudent gall.
For if you are Black,
A far safer tack
Would be: Carry Nothing. At all.
Scott Pruitt is proud to insist
Climate change simply does not exist.
Guess the lobbyist perks
In exchange for his works.
Were simply to hard to resist.
With the DHS wanting in place
A big journalist database,
From the past, we may learn
This is cause for concern,
But they say this is just not the case.
A Trump Tower fire.
In Syria – gas.
There’s John Kelly’s ire,
And Stormy D’s ass.
I browse through the news
In search of a rhyme
Each headline I choose
From gossip to crime,
Leaves me shaking my head
Is it real or fake.
So this Sunday, instead,
I’ll be taking a break.
A photograph in online circulations
Presents a skyline choked in yellow haze,
The sickly chewy air before the days
The EPA brought forth their regulations.
Respectful stewards, Lo, your time has passed,
For growth and profit will not be the price.
There are no bonus points for playing nice,
And he who’s first – shall never be the last.
These times, a changing fast and for the worst.
While Modern Robber Barons carve the spoils
No matter. Let the future take the soils,
And mop the waste from this unholy thirst.
The cost of air. The cost of one man dead.
The cost of one apartment sprinkler head.
Knock knock. Who’s there. Some agents at the door.
Present the warrant and begin the search.
Now Trump’s own suit has landed in the lurch,
My, my. What was that tidy payment for?
And was the studly Donald unaware
Of Cohen’s payout close to the election
To cover infidelity’s erection.
This generous and loyal friend beyond compare.
“Attorney-client privilege is dead”
Ah no, it does not hide potential fraud
E’en if he only preached and spoke of God.
Next time talk faith with your pants on instead.
Now is chief Robert Mueller under fire,
Or will Assad receive our leader’s ire.
This Internet, a subtle serpent’s kiss
A Trojan Horse delivered to our minds
To feed upon each data oat it finds
The price we pay for such connective bliss.
Oh Zuckerberg, stand up and face your critics.
A reckoning, Boy Wonder Billionaire
The dark side of the genie in the air
Unleashed and owned by Cambridge Analytics.
Unholy harvest. Curse who sowed your seeds.
The lies that shape opinion bearing fruit,
While fearing just how deeply grows the root.
The Hydra Matrix growing as it feeds.
So testify. Post up your lame excuses.
And sense the shame your sad sell-out induces.
A supply-sider Speaker named Ryan
Cut nets that left poorer folk cryin’.
Gave bankers a pass,
Kissed the President’s ass,
Now, back to his family, he’s flyin’.
John Boehner says, “Let’s legalize!
To keep toking illegal’s not wise!”
But it’s more from a need
To cash in on Big Weed
Than to go and get stoned with the guys.
Another round of playing Global Cop.
Another set of moves in Cold War chess.
Another chance to make a bloody mess.
While innocents await the other bomb to drop.
How accurate, how surgical the strikes.
How many kills declaring no more kills.
How long must we endure this test of wills.
And will the clever memes result in “likes”.
There’s whispers it is but a pipeline war.
A proxy fight for who controls the flow.
Backstory rumors most will never know.
A shrug from those too weary to keep score.
In Syria today, foundations shook
Distractions from the bombs in Comey’s book.
As a sacrifice for world and nation,
Dave Buckell died from self-immolation.
He went up in flame,
Representing the blame
Of humans abusing their station.
A dark, dramatic build-up sets the stage
As Comey spills his beans on 20-20.
The teasers for a book that offers plenty,
And stokes the opposition’s morning rage.
Some softballs lobbed by Stephanopoulos.
Responses merging fact with strong opinions.
And then the cat-calls from the loyal minions
Defending he who’s moral brand would topple us.
Ah yes, I made mistakes, the man admits.
But as an honest man, where to begin,
Outflanked by those who’s currency is spin
Does Trump look like a guy who pays for tits?
Our Founding Fathers rolling in their graves.
Now, this is how America behaves.
A journalist or just a talk show host.
As situations shift, it all depends.
For Hannity enjoys it from both ends,
And wears whatever hat serves him the most.
That raid of Cohen’s office sparked his rage,
So daily ranted his support for free,
Not mentioning he’s Client Number Three.
Then, citing privacy, tries hard to turn the page.
But when your lawyer’s files wind up seized,
And linked to acts of dubious distinction,
Could those endorsements bring career extinction
And leave one’s precious moral posture sleazed.
Before the opposition chalks a win,
Let’s wait to hear the famous Fox News Spin.
Barbara Bush had both class and skill.
Condolences, truly. But still,
Way back in the day,
We’d jokingly say
How’d she get on our One Dollar Bill?
Kansas Secty of State Kris Kobach
Working hard to bring good ol’ Jim Crow back,
Was found in contempt
For his vote block attempt
And got hit with ACLU blowback.
Today, an early Spring dance,
To toast the world of High Finance.
Wells Fargo’s fined plenty.
Here’s to Green! Both money and plants.
A CDC warning today
Says to throw Romaine lettuce away.
I hate to be rude
But there’s shit in our food.
Do your job, you damned FDA!
This Earth Day there’s no way to spin
Concern for the shape that it’s in.
Toxic waste, dying bees
Melting ice, burning trees.
It’s hard to know where to begin.
A Waffle House near Nashville, Tennessee.
An active shooter, this time without pants.
The rifle jams, so one man takes a chance.
The shooter curses and proceeds to flee.
What naked, heated rage within him burned,
This strange young man that we’ve seen once before,
Arrested when he neared the White House door.
(And thank you, Dad, for firearms returned.)
The latest in a series never-ending.
Where thoughts and prayers and logic sadly fail.
Among us, who is left to tell the tale
Of when our fabric passed the point of mending.
Turn not a hardened heart to face the sadness.
Resist the sum of firearms and madness.
He didn’t go far when he fled.
But stayed near the crime scene instead.
The manhunt has ended.
He’s been apprehended.
But if he were Black, he’d be dead.
Our Senate prefers to delay
Votes on Trump’s choice to head the VA.
He drinks to excess,
Causes staffer duress,
But he says Donald’s health is OK.
Mick Mulvaney revealed today
How Congressmen are pay-to-play
If you lobby with green
You’re sure to get seen.
If not, just go on your way.
For playing consumers as jerks,
It’s not just the job – it’s the perks.
From too big to fail
To “hey, I’m for sale”
Is how our “democracy” “works”.
A landmark here: one-thousand days to go
For this revolving door administration
Atop our crumbling, and divided nation.
Stare on in horror, or enjoy the show?
As things we need and cherish lose protections
By agencies run by insider hacks
Who’s bosses, now exempt from paying tax,
Gear up to finance upcoming elections.
Against this, fire, famine, flood, disaster
All play out daily on our global stage
And innocents fall prey to naked rage
With changes always coming harder, faster.
But even so, America’s the best!
Just ask Trump’s New Best Friend – Kanye West.
How many of us knew his bits by heart.
The way he’d use the mic and work the stage.
Back when Why Is There Air? was all the rage.
The total package: clean, black, hip and smart.
An Everyman, beyond the color line,
We’d see his friends on Saturday cartoons,
Those pudding cups with little plastic spoons,
His TV show where all in life was fine.
But yesterday he faced the judge alone
A legacy of laughter in reverse
From much beloved to predator, perverse.
At 80, not much time left to atone.
Over 60 women, drugged, against their will.
Betrayed and violated.
Ben Carson’s HUD plan is extensive.
Puts our neediest on the defensive.
With his tripling rents,
We’ll be seeing more tents.
How sad being poor’s so expensive.
At the Press Roast that Michelle Wolf hosted.
The usual suspects got roasted
With her truth wrapped in snark,
Hit it out of the park
While in Michigan, Donald just boasted.
The blowback from how Michelle spoke
Comes from people not in on the joke.
Her words were evocative.
OK, be provocative
As long as you don’t provoke.