July, 2018

Our President’s Deutsche Bank link,
Justice Kennedy’s son. Dontcha think
The loans he approved
Helped opinions get moved
With an influence peddling stink.


An interview with Michael Cohen
Suggests cracks in the armor are showin’.
Take one for “The Gipper”?
He’s more of a flipper.
For to jail he don’t want to be goin’.


Kristin Mink, a schoolmarm from DC,
Met Scott Pruitt while out having tea,
Dissed his climate denial,
And his scandal plagued style
Causing Scott and his toadies to flee.


Best to all on this Fourth of July
Proudly raise up your flag. Let it fly.
Good luck to our Nation,
But I’m on vacation.
Sending hugs from Quebec now. Goodbye.

(For a more detailed Independence Day rhyme, please refer to my poem from 7/4/17 located in this site’s archives)


Oh Alex Jones, your Second Civil War
Lays bare our nation’s uncivility
A line dividing our humanity
A bloody road that we have seen before.

And yet we joke in styles of ancient letters
Lampoon your paranoia entertainment.
A litany inciting the insane, meant
to alert the armed alt-right go-getters.

This tired act to push us to the fringes
Provokes our independence from each other,
With Liberty to demonize The Other,
And blow the door to Hell beyond its hinges.

Each day, a step away from a reunion.
And from our Founding Fathers’ perfect union.


Behold! Beware! Be sure, I am the swamp.
I am the chewy orange setting sun
The fracked and strip-mined blank unholy sum.
The soulless pit of carbon footprint stomp.

Beware you schools and sons of higher learning
Bring not your data indicators here
With progress, science will not interfere
But grant us grand new ways to speed the burning.

Be sure, this desk where influence I peddle.
Taxpayer-funded perks enjoyed by cronies,
And deals made with conservation’s phonies.
No climate-change canaries need to meddle.

I am Scott Pruitt. Out is where you’ll find me,
And yet there are so many more behind me.


From his mouth, don’t expect to hear sensible.
More like tastelessness that’s indefensible.
But still, I must say
That his speech on Thursday
Hit a new low for incomprehensible.


In these days of strange and sad news,
Many folks can’t help singing the blues.
But rather than mope,
There’s new reasons to hope,
Cheering on the Thailand cave rescues.


Some dubious formula peddlers
Are American breast-feeding meddlers.
But the World Health group bit
At our Corporate tit.
Mother’s Milk simply hasn’t got better-ers.


For the Right, Kavanaugh is just fine.
A conservative values gold mine.
Thus setting the stage
For a modern Dark Age.
Special thanks, of course, goes to Jill Stein.


Let’s tell all our allies they’re bad!
And how NATO deals make us mad!
Let’s foam, spew and rage
On the Grand Global Stage!
Then enjoy private moments with Vlad.


From neighbors on their anxious city streets,
To countries with their frayed and jagged edges,
Between two sides, those ever-widening wedges,
With every victory greater in defeat.

This toxic separating separation;
Toy soldiers guided by some darker hand
To rise against The Other on command,
How could a life rejoice this degradation.

The easy choices serve a smaller “I”.
The greater “I” encompasses the all,
Consumes in this the essence thought of “wall”.
And knowing this, see now, and wonder why.

For after all is finally said and done,
We’re still but emanations of The One.


And now perhaps the dust and smoke are clearing,
So let the experts sift and parse the shouting,
The transcript of such crass partisan doubting,
Ringmaster Gowdy’s tense ten-hour hearing.

As clowns on board, Gohmert, Goodlatte and Issa,
Fixate on an imagined smoking gun.
Conclusions reached before their Question One.
Taxpayers, thanks for paying for this pisser.

And yet the witness, cool while under fire
Admits to angered texts sent late at night,
But still subject to Bureau oversight,
Laments his nation dragged into the mire.

The words themselves say more than some reporter.
This mockery of Robert’s Rules of Order.


To grab the headlines is the trick of it.
To everywhere, be in the thick of it.
Agree. Disagree.
Still, it’s his face you see.
I’ve got Trump Overload, and I’m sick of it.


On Kav’s confirmation, Trump’s bankin’.
And the Court’s Left of Center is tankin’
Just another judge seat
For the money’d elite.
I tell ya – I’m missing Al Franken.


On the Right, some don’t care what he breaks.
They get off on his lies and mistakes.
Incite global rage,
Take a dump on the stage,
Bring tears to them precious Snowflakes!


The former head of Russian secret forces.
A long and fine career in stealth and spying,
Who’s critics, foes and rivals end up dying.
Believe his word above your country’s sources.

And brush away the facts of 12 indictments
The driving wedge of all this witch-hunt foolishness.
Ignore your best friend’s history of ghoulishness.
And hide behind your smoke-screen tweet excitements.

A battle rages for our country’s soul.
For some he’s still the answer to a prayer,
This floating infant in his underwear
Stay tuned for what they call Damage Control.

But let’s applaud whatever non-nuke deal.
Why bother blowing up what you can steal.


So many areas of fierce concern
And we, beset with weariness and worry
To what, or from what threat must we next scurry.
This sickened feeling just behind the burn.

But we are precious more than just reflexes
To whiplash headlines meant but to divide
Move slow. Don’t let them keep you on this ride
Find in you still, the quiet, reasoned nexus.

If there is hope, it lies in us together
Within a peace beyond unsettled scores.
Stare down who dare to profit from our wars
Yet even they’re connected by the tether.

Each day a pressure to a quicker pace
Then suddenly to stop and ask for Grace.

The Congressman named Rohrabacher,
A known pro-Kremlin altacocker,
Sought a back-channel deal
And perhaps copped a feel
From Maria, the locked-up spy shocker.


In Branson, a sad, tragic note.
Casualties from a sinking duck boat.
A metaphor forms:
We’re all weathering storms,
And fighting hard to stay afloat.


“Your favorite President did nothing wrong.”
How comforting to read these morning tweetings.
But lawyer Cohen’s secret tapes of meetings
Might sing to us a starkly different song.

What dirt would tapes reveal about Lincoln.
The untold scoop on him and Mary Todd.
Or would they show that Roosevelt was odd.
My fav’rite Prez? What was this fella thinking?

I’m sorry Don, you’ll have to get in line.
Put Kennedy and Truman before you,
And Silent Cal, and Eisenhower too.
E’en William Henry Harrison looks fine.

With all the things you’ve done that will need fixin’,
How sad you make me long for Richard Nixon.


Assange! Assange! You are my Robin Hood!
Your WikiLeaks a brave gift to the poor.
From Ecuador, I fear for what’s in store,
For part of me believes still, you are good.

What powers cannot handle truths be told.
Look there and find who gets to hold his key.
For all the things we’re not supposed to see.
What threats were made. For how much was he sold.

What Nation Secrets did he jeopardize.
His hubris paving paths to bogus sources,
And making him a tool for Russian forces
But still. The words themselves be truth or lies.

While caught twixt gratitude and condemnation,
The First Amendment dies with his incarceration.


Meanwhile, Macron’s aide in France,
With his fists on some folks did a dance.
He’s been charged for the scrum,
But his boss has kept mum.
In this world now, it’s Give Beast a Chance.



Acknowledging the tariffs he imposed
Brought consequences that were not intended,
12 Billion now in bailouts are extended.
Free-traders up in arms by what’s proposed.

So many things, they’ll shamefully ignore
And justify outrageous claims and lies,
The silence that a juicy tax break buys.
But they don’t like those tariffs anymore.

Behold – it cuts both ways, the trade war knife.
And red state farmer voters in a panic,
In line for handouts from President Manic,
Elect who values profit over life.

So clearly seen a Congress not our friend.
Trade War’s the only war they’d care to end.


Our President is quite a chafer.
Under his rule, I don’t feel safer.
But today’s sad surprise?
The apparent demise
Of the foul tasting ol’ Necco wafer.


While it looks like Trump’s fixer, Mike Cohen
Will be telling the court what he’s knowin’.
About Donald’s flirt
With collusion for dirt,
Every nose in the room now is growin’.


To the Senate, the House will be sending
A whopping bill for defense spending.
The vote tally sez
Regardless who’s Prez,
We’ll be paying for war, never ending.

Lying safe and secure in my bedding,
I fret over where things are heading.
With temperatures higher,
Our state is on fire.
And hearts break for the people of Redding.


Now Bannon loudly chastises the Kochs.
How odd to hear one brother voice regret.
Still staunchly to the right and yet,
A slight nod to the welfare of just folks.

Get with the program, Bannon says. Shut up.
We count the votes -then- we philosophize.
Til then, we’ll need your bankroll for our guys.
To let our Democratic friends all know whassup.

So Donald Trump’s divisive. God, who knew.
Surprised, as now his policies take toll?
Since when has our well being been your goal.
Next up? Fresh faces giving us the screw.

This weekend’s Colorado Springs retreat.
Where Master Carvers argue how to slice the meat.



Bell-bottoms, wide lapels, that ‘stash and ‘fro,
Epitomizing 70’s Progressive.
For 37 years he served, successive.
And made it on to Nixon’s List, you know.

A radical who fought within the system
For justice, human rights, and ending war.
A Statesman who did not forsake his core,
And when he left, even opponents missed him.

Ron Dellums, here, we note and mourn your loss.
Now many others walk a trail you blazed,
And carry forth the issues that you raised
As Congressman and then as Oakland’s boss.

Articulate, impassioned and pragmatic.
A far cry from these days of constant static.

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