So who among us are the brave explorers
Who’d dare to sneak inside for Trick or Treat
What slimy creatures will be there to greet
Within the ominous White House of Horrors.
(pause. insert blood-curdling scream here)
There’s Giuliani, proud as Nosferatu,
And McEnany in her snake-like coil,
The shrieking harpy witch Kimberly Guilfoyle
And unmasked staff with COVID flying at you.
Don Junior helps you bob for razored fruit,
While ghostly men in sheets tear gas the streets
And Black and Brown kids feast on poison treats
From Stephen Miller in his SS suit.
Such scary fun to make us scream and shout.
Then toss the orange jack-o-lantern out.
They came in from Laredo on the urging of his son.
The Trump Train brought their forces out “to have a little fun”.
That Biden bus was up against a tactic rather new to us
Surrounded on the Interstate, they asked “what will they do to us?”
The Trump-supporting patriots were ready to unload.
They tried to run that Commie Biden busload off the road.
“Hey, howdy folks”, they said. “So sad yer leavin’ San Antone,
But why not keep on drivin’, and just leave our state alone.”
Our president, he laughed and said they’re offering protection.
It’s sad to see the lengths he has to go for an erection.
But then came in the FBI to take a look’n’see
Upon this happy heap of Texas hospitality.
Election 2020 winds down to its final days
A troubling time for all of us in far too many ways
Now add to it a most disturbing hallmark of our nation –
Some good ol’ fashioned tried & true thuggish intimidation.
lies. threats. obstructions.
rights and lives sadly at risk
as we hold our breath
The landslide that we hoped for didn’t fall
The numbers once predicted not appearing
That ever-looming outcome we’ve been fearing
Anxiety and tension cast a pall.
What is this foreign country we’ve become
With goals and standards I can’t recognize
I’ve lost the truth I cherished in these lies
Oh when will this depression turn to numb
Four years to mobilize a strong defense
Tonight we saw the best that we could do
Was not enough to turn the red to blue
And wash away the stain of Trump and Pence.
Perhaps in sleep a respite from the sorrow
There’s still a few more votes to count tomorrow.
For 4 years, this Trumpian curse.
And now he just makes matters worse
With fraud accusations,
And false proclamations,
And tweets that are flatly perverse.
We witnessed the Great Orange Beast
Engage in a falsehood-filled feast
With inciteful claims
And off-the-chart blames,
While the ballots for Biden increased.
Departing from that nasal, whining tone.
A calming message. Warmer. Reassuring.
A welcome shift from what we’d been enduring
At last an exit from this Twilight Zone.
Perhaps he only said what was expected
This politician, yes, for 50 years
Refreshing tho, to not play to our fears.
A heart within seemed honestly detected.
Our leader has another path to choose –
To fan the rabid flames of Stop The Steal
This man who once gave us Art of The Deal
We see he’d rather start a war than lose.
Meanw’ile now positive on your behalf,
Mark Meadows, loyal White House Chief of Staff.
Trump’s had time for copping a feel.
And more time to lie, cheat and steal.
And then time for Joe
To say Don, time to go.
It’s time for our country to heal.
All day I’ve been wearing a grin.
For soon the new term will begin.
But the thing that perturbs me,
Confounds & disturbs me
Are the folks who still think Trump can win.
The president, in loss, beyond consoling,
A-tweeting from his bunker “WE WILL WIN”.
Transition Team obstructions now begin,
And starting with Mark Esper, heads are rolling.
Now William Barr says go pursue the fraud
Investigate substantial allegations
That robbed this orange laughingstock of nations,
While Trumpers pray to q-anon & god.
Oh could we please declare a moratorium
On he too vain, corrupt and blind to fail.
A press conf’rence lays out his comeback trail
Between a dildo shoppe and crematorium.
Meanwhile, the ACA may just survive.
O what a wondrous time to be alive.
I guess that you have to admire ‘em,
For somehow the facts did inspire ‘em.
The Supremes weren’t kidding –
They did not do his bidding.
I guess that he’ll just have to fire ‘em.
Allegations of fraud met with frost
While frivolous lawsuits get tossed,
I know it must suck
To be a lame duck,
But pack it in Donny, YOU LOST.
Like some old depraved, debauched Royal,
Trump only has use for the loyal.
So don’t do your job.
Just polish the knob
Of this outgoing festering boil.
Out! Out! Infernal petulant man-child!
Refuse to lead and yet refuse to leave
This man who wears his ass upon his sleeve
With more pandemic surges running wild.
It’s past allotted time for saving face
With some young pup to run the pink slip purge
No reasoned voice to stem the vengeful urge
No decent lawyer left to take the case.
So in four years, a hint at coming back
A strategy to keep the base excited
A fine routine until you get indicted
And creditors won’t cut you any slack.
Each day another act to help cement
This legacy of an embarrassment.
In DC, there’s protestors swirling.
Accusations of fraud they are hurling.
They yell, scream and cry for him,
Perhaps kill or die for him,
As he goes to tee off at Sterling.
Poor Donald is soon out of work.
His lawsuits are met with a smirk.
He’s taking a beating
But not due to cheating,
But because many think he’s a jerk.
In Georgia there’s been a demand
To recount all ballots by hand
‘Cept the ones you may cross
That Graham says “toss”
(tho he’s denied taking that stand).
Yes, many have found him uncouth,
And he acts like a petulant youth
Who’s crass and self-serving
But what’s more unnerving
Is his four-year long war against truth.
An amazing new record has hit.
A quarter mil have died from it.
Would things be that bad
If only we had
A president who gave a shit.
In over thirteen-hundred daily rhymes
Perspectives offered on events and players.
My crude attempts to peer between the layers
Present a stanza’d journal of our times.
A country’s slow fragmenting into pieces
A daily dose of soul disturbing headlines
Of cities rife with toilet paper breadlines
And leadership like monkeys flinging feces.
This daily practice forces me to look
And offer what I see in tidy verses
Each one a metaphor for what perverse is
And stars our orange psychopathic crook.
A leader leaves his nation sick and grieving
Sets fire to the building as he’s leaving.
If Sinclair is all that you viewed,
Being so right-wing fantasy skewed,
For four years, alas,
Smoke blew up your ass.
No wonder you think Trump got screwed.
bright lights big moment
twenty-grand a day mastery
his hair is melting
With Covid in sad upward climb,
A global confab would be prime.
He’d show, but dad-gummit,
That G-20 summit
Conflicted with Donald’s tee time.
For 16 days she held on to the keys
Tho’ caught between, she wanted to be sure.
Her boss’ wrath a challenge to endure,
While Congress wasn’t saying “pretty please”.
The Donald tweeted threats and hit the links.
Unprecedented graceless hand-off stalls.
Security and needed structure falls.
This chapter of our chequered hist’ry stinks.
Transition time. So let the Trumpers grieve.
They’ve seen his battle play out in the courts
And Giuliani take it in the shorts.
It’s time their two-bit grifter has to leave.
But even so the man will not concede.
It’s no big thing. At this point there’s no need.
With the president’s leadership aimlessly
Leaving no one who’s touched by it blamelessly,
There’s also, of course,
The Elite Strike Force
With Rudy and Sid lying shamelessly.
Pleaded guilty. Admitted to lies
About Moscow to F.B.I. guys.
What he could have told.
His silence is gold
So his pardon comes as no surprise.
The High Court of Right Wing Achievers
Made music for some True Believers:
The state cannot say
We can’t gather to pray,
And we’re free to be disease receivers.
Death Penalty fans can rejoice.
With Barr they have found their true voice.
To toxic solution,
To bullet, he’s all about choice.
With people now ill by the score,
And so many hungry and poor,
Asked if he predicted
How many afflicted,
Our president’s answer was “Fore!”
Fox News. A Sunday morning interview.
A time for making claims and sowing doubt.
The fact that Donald won it in a rout
That Democrats corrupted out of view.
A tragic case of justice interrupted
Such evidence the judges won’t allow.
A steaming mass of evidence, and how!
Of one man’s grifter fantasy disrupted.
Two narratives diverge for us to choose
With resources and patience wearing thin
Some waiting for the skirmish to begin
As usual the innocents will lose.
And as this lame-duck nightmare limps along,
He’s either the most wronged or the most wrong.
One thought on “November, 2020”
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