May, 2018

I’ll take a brief moment to cheer
As it looks like I’ve marked one more year.
Moody mind, plagued by doubt,
Many parts wearing out.
But still I am glad to be here.

Doc Bornstein said what we suspected:
“The healthiest Prexy elected”
Dictated those quizzical
Results of his physical.
Ah, the lies with which we’re infected.

Giuliani’s a difficult rhyme,
But says Cohen committed no crime.
His current depiction
Is stranger than fiction.
A distracting waste of our time.

For while wondering who Donald dicked,
Our pockets are still being picked,
Our teachers are wanting,
Our climate is daunting,
And our future’s ass is getting kicked.

(993b – bonus rhyme – no extra charge!)
An ex mayor named Giuliani
Preferred Yoplait over Chobani.
But still glad and able
To be back at the table
For a light business luncheon with Donny.

In this time of “me too”, no surprise
Even Stockholm sees scandals and lies.
Please note, to be sure,
That for Literature,
It’s not called The Nobel “Piece” Prize.


Well, Cinco de Mayo is here!
Time for many to sing, dance and cheer!
Cultural celebration!
Mexican liberation!
(And perhaps margaritas & beer.)


So now we see Big Apple’s former mayor.
Face cameras with his legal verbal surgery,
On Russia, porn stars and potential perjury,
So grateful to be once again a player.

This White House circus made for SNL
Some laugh, but mostly just to keep from cryin’
While others justify and keep on buyin’.
Hypocrisy, the overriding smell.

How sad to see such scant regard for truth
Here in the time of manufactured facts.
Where spin is king, and covering one’s tracks
Leads to despair within the voting booth.

This world. These times. Hard not to be dejected.
So far away from what was once expected.


West Virginia’s election’s a trip
Thanks to Trump Fanboy Don Blankenship.
This racist coal baron’s

Poll numbers are flarin’
Causing mainstream opponents to flip.

The NRA’s wisdom and prudence
Seeks out Ollie North’s fearless impudence.
To continue their story
Of God, Guns and Glory
As they ready for battle with students.

A celebrated woman’s rights defender.
New York’s Top Cop. A bright and rising star.
Who learned to hit in ways that left no scar.
A drunk and violent abusive bender.

Role playing games perhaps he now regrets,
Though he declares that they were all consensual,
His vicious slaps and choking meant as sensual.
E’en though they came with vile lethal threats.

Now he himself is facing prosecution,
This sad once noble thorn in Donald’s side.
How many others bruised and battered cried,
And may they all find peace and retribution.

Together we must shape a new reality
And get beyond this small penis mentality.


The Iran deal’s gone, I suppose.
What happens next, nobody knows.
Designed for restraining ’em
From enriching uranium,
But Obama wrote it, so it goes


Kelly Sadler has some sense of humor.
Her sad recent comment may doom her.
More tasteless than shocking
Was her cruelly mocking
War Hero John McCain’s tumor.


Who knows where our country is heading.
Each day a new reason for fretting.
But today, nothing sinister.
I’ll be serving as Minister
As a friend o’ mine’s daughter’s wedding.


A nod to Trump’s mom Mary Anne
Who from motherly nurturing ran
One may wonder today
Of what Freud would say
How her cool, detached ways shaped the man.


The embassy’s moved as was said.
Jerusalem’s it now instead.
There was a big “yahoo!”
From Ben Netanyahu
And more Palestinians dead.

This Election Day won’t be a fix.
Both sides are still up to their trix.
Things can’t stay the same.
Want to change the game?
Remove politics from Politics.

Kim Jong Un’s not smiley or laugh-y.
To the US Security Staff-y,
He’s not sending roses,
Since Bolton proposes
He end up like Moammar Gaddafi.

The Mueller probe’s now a year old.
A “witch hunt” or so we’ve been told,
While Roger Stone boasts
Of “weaponized” posts,
His subpoena is not even cold.

Coming up soon to take Mueller’s stand,
Jeffery Yohai, with plea deal in hand.
Manafort wonders why
This guy’d testify.
What of “ex” does he not understand.

Enough with the murderous fools.
Say NO to these disgruntled tools.
For too many days
We’ve stared at the phrase
That uses the words “guns” and “schools”.

In Trump’s America each White man is free
To take his grievance and his gun to school
Or in a crowd to make his car a tool.
To make his points as victims fall or flee.

In Trump’s America, White women have the right,
To call police on those with darker features.
And rid a public space of lesser creatures.
Who dare to make a wave, however slight.

In Trump’s America White Corporations stand
For growth and profit unrestrained by tax,
Deregulation not slowed down by facts,
And futures bright with purchased votes in hand.

In Trump’s America, circus over bread.
In Trump’s America, the Loving God is dead.

His speeches pit neighbor and neighbor.
He globally rattles his saber.
And today, the report –
His 5-4 High Court
Is dividing and conquering Labor.

It takes a village to build a Border Wall.
So says Dianne Black, Rep. of Tennessee.
“We’ll build it strong with gifts from you and me”
Crowdfunding Donald’s Dream of standing tall.

Complete with festive plaques commemorating
The Patriots who chipped in to the till
To foot his multi-billion dollar bill
While real problems, needing funds, lie waiting.

And in your dreams, how does this wall protect
From those “bad hombres” born into white skin,
The crazy, angry ones already in.
Who’s bloody violence makes them erect.

This waste. A vanity commemoration.
Do tell – how much is Mexico’s donation?

A certain time, and I, a certain age.
A used and yellow paperback did find.
Young Portnoy’s quest imprinted on my mind.
A pained, revealing laugh on every page.

Beyond that yet, a life of shaping words
And phrases, all revealing and disquiet
One may dislike, but still cannot deny it.
No easy fiction here for mindless herds.

Oh Philip Roth. Your long, storied, career.
Your cutting words let flow our human stain.
Dust jacket photos share your brooding pain.
Upon each book a sign: Words matter here.

First Wolfe then Roth – each in their own, a Boss.
Today, we mark our Literary Loss.

In an act of severe reprimand,
The Korean summit’s been canned.
Donald Trump blamed the schism
On patriotism:
For our Anthem, Kim Jong Un just won’t stand.


A contact, unexpected, from my site.
A journalist requests an interview
A smile, a pause, and then what do I do?
A google search to see if she is right.

Five-hundred rhymes (or so). Can I condense
Events and faces flashed upon our brains
Can listeners connect with what remains,
And in this context, will my words make sense.

This snapshot journal offered up in rhyme
To document our shocking, sad parade.
My hand to you should hope begin to fade,
For blessed or cursed, this truly is our time.

A longing burns for truth and for compassion.
How far these things have fallen out of fashion.


One may wonder what Mueller might think
Of the NRA – Russia link,
And what deals were begun
Connecting Trump’s son,
To a known money laundering link.


Trump’s border plan stands without heart.
Ripping immigrant families apart.
By the way, did I mention
Young kids in detention
Locked up in a former Wal-Mart.

Of his War Years, my father said jack.
Tho his actions, while under attack,
Once helped save the day,
But the “heroes”, he’d say
Were the ones who did not make it back.

Yesterday, introduced to the crowd,
Giuliani got booed pretty loud
Guess his work on the stump
Helping lawyer-up Trump
Is not making Yankee fans proud.

There once was this broad named Rosanne
Who scratched, spit and swore like a man.
When her bald racist poke
Fell flat as a joke,
ABC tossed Rosanne in the can.


New data shows what we were told was wrong
With death and loss far greater than reported.
Our helpless and our neediest got shorted.
Maria and her sad September song,

On windy wings brought miles of destruction
And while our aid – in billions – not enough,
Our Stateside minds tuned-in to other stuff,
And left to “thoughts & prayers” your reconstruction.

Our leader, tossing towels from a distance
And with great praise, his victory anoints,
Reducing others’ pain to talking points
Disputing San Juan’s mayor’s bleak insistence.

What “greatness” offers some elusive fix
Solutions beyond greed and politics.

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