(my)HOWL – I

                                  Allen Ginsberg
I saw the worst minds of my generation, a plague of            
            madness, soul-starved in naked depravity
dragging Negroes through the streets at midnight,                        
            this angry system begging for a fix,
angels of Armageddon burning for the ancient prophesy             
            disconnected from the starry dynamo in twisted            
            machinery of eternal night,
who with wealth beyond imagination watched impoverished             
            humanity smolder from the echoed marbled darkness
            of gated seclusion hovering over once-city remnants,
            contemplating nil,
who pared young brains through dense fences of Hell and
            padlocked doors, scarring blank slates forever
            starved for illumination,
who bought out universities with cool venture capital fortunes
            in hallucinatory self-importance while graduating tragic                  
            scholars of staggering debt,
who were purged from the cloud for live-streaming the
            obscenity of their hate through small shattered
who slashed away at long ragged snakes of tattered clothing,             
            burning money on porous steel dreams, wasting caged             
            lives to the Terror at the wall,
who busted heads in public, and silenced dissent in anony-
           mous white vans from Portland to Chicago to New York,
who ate junk food in Oval Offices or drank bleach in churches,
            death, or purgatoried their lungs in unmasked bars 
            night after night,
with thoughts, with prayers, with hollow promises, false             
            claims, Diet Cokes and endless lies
incomprehensible blind tweets shuddering loud, and 
            light in the mind leaping towards polls in
            Mar a Lago & Fantasyland, illuminating the sub-
            conscious underworld of Times past,
OxyContin realities in backwood bleak economies,             
            drunken dawns in tented storefronts, joyriding             
            limousines playing Let’s Make a Deal in the             
            flickering American winter, roaring past lost lives             
            and lost minds,
who chained themselves to cardboard prophets for a four-
            year descent into Promised Land mirages,             
            scattering blame among innocents, until the noise             
            of collapse brought them down betrayed, butt-hurt             
            and broken, railing at their own images reflected in             
            the shattered mirrors of Now,
who sank to knees of worship for the narrow-minded god
            of their own creation, sitting at the right hand of the
            false prophet profiteering and listening to devout             
            crackpots speaking in forked tongues,
who spewed continuously in 140 characters from toilet 
            to table to desk to toilet to table to desk to toilet 
            to bed and toilet again,
a tragic gaggle of pundit commentators jumping through
            hoops, lowering their ever-lowering bar even             
            lower, beneath dignity, beneath decency, beneath             
accusing, blaming, insulting, mocking, threatening,               
            alluding to false facts and fantasies, delivering             
            crotch kicks and backstabs to victims, moralists
            and vets,
with intellects exchanged for total loyalty, and pardons
            granted to bag men and butchers, the meat of the
            former-favored cast to the curb,
who descended the Golden Escalator of Destiny to leave a
            trail of sixteen white elephants picture postcards of
            Quicken Loans Arena in Cleveland,
envying the Korean rocket man, the Russian mob boss, the            
            Turkish strongman, the Philippine enforcer, the             
            Brazilian firestarter, the cruel Israeli landlord, and             
            the Chinese president-for life,
who wandered from dressing room to dressing room of             
            the Beauty Pageants of America, wondering what             
            pussy to grab next, leaving no trace of heart,
who cut deals in golfcarts golfcarts golfcarts racketeering
            walrus mulligans in lonesome foursomes with fair-            
            weather friends,
who studied Mussolini von Mieses Ayn Rand prosperity             
            theology and satanic pregnancies but preached to            
            TikTok empty seats in Tulsa,
who loned it down the path of the South Lawn, a vision of             
            crumpled untied faded smeared with orange collar
            and small white palms,
who doubled-down on anarchy futures and worshipped at             
            the false altar of Big Data and talking telescopes             
            laserfocused on private lives,
who jumped into raw deals with the Chinaman on artless             
            impulse while leaving his cards facedown for a cold               
            winter Christmas shopping in smalltown America,
who lounged fat and lonely in Mar a Lago with no music pets
            or laughter, and conversed with the One Jew Nazi
            about infestations of eternal White America while             
            giving painful birth to his own Shithole Country,
who disappeared prosecutors for getting too close to Russian
            associates, erasing paths to shadowy payments leaving
            nothing but the ash of evidence scattered in lobbies of            
            the Ukraine,
who reinvented weather along the Southern Coast and saved
            Alabama from Dorian’s mode of destruction using only a             
            Sharpie marker,
who burned clean coal despite the fact that it simply does not             
            exist beyond the propagandic haze of Capitalism,
who distributed 250 million dollars worth of Javelin Missiles
            after seeking a quid for his pro quo as the sirens
            of the whistleblowers wailed, and Zelinsky wailed,           
            and the Democrat Congress also wailed,
who broke down blue boxes in black neighborhoods in
            naked desperation before dismantled machinery and
            skeleton crews,
who’s bit-part AstroTurf shrieked with delight for fifty bucks
            and a free t-shirt, fluffed by megaphones of praise and
            the intoxicant of proximate fame,
who wept stale beer into national microphones and dragged
            girls into frat party bedrooms groping genitals
            and judicial robes,
who fucked the Statue of Liberty in the ass while self-            
            appointed saints testified with prideful ecstasy about             
            god’s plan, 
who chanted “blood & soil” to the romantic glow of their 
            Cost Plus tiki torches and partied like it was 1933,
who bailed on rose gardens and public lands for cutting,             
            mining, fracking, drilling, dredging, extracting, paving             
            and laying pipe through sacred cemeteries and holy             
            waterways freely to whomever came to pay,
who word-farted endlessly trying to communicate but wound             
            up lost behind a partition of TelePrompters til faux
            journalists came to lob softballs, underhand,
who sold their souls to the siren songs of seduction - the             
            hollow melody of loveless lust, the pathetic bombast of             
            unearned power, and the unresolved dissonance of an              
            unquenchable greed that makes nothing, gives nothing,             
            and offers nothing but must have everything in return,
who graduated from Libertine University with a speedo and a             
            glass of black water, summoning The Fixer for future             
            endorsements and scratching that unHoly Itch while             
            making love offerings to the Saintly Pool Boy with a             
            vision of ultimate cuck bathed in the fetid gyzym of             
            hypocritical self-righteousness,
who island pimped for heads of state and socialites, spilling 
            semen on the red eyed trembling innocents, with book             
            upon book of names and numbers dying with them by 
            enforced suicide, 
who whored their night-school law degree in defense of 
            darkside extra-curriculars, W.B., legal hero of the Secret 
            Government, launderer, Bully of Columbia, and staunch 
            defender of BCCI, — death penalties and absolute 
            power in pursuit of the traditional moral order &  
            executive privilege, & The Crusades, while earning the 
            contempt of Congress for sympathetic editings & 
            whitewashings, & heat-beaming paths for Lafayette 
            Square photo-ops, & allies of his King, 
who faded away after his security clearance got lifted, then             
            backed the Alabammy Judge who dates ‘em young             
            before crapping out in Europe, abandoned by Mercer             
            to hawk white gin blossom nationalism and fraudulent             
            wall futures and begging pardon after stumbling off 
            Guo’s yacht in Post Office handcuffs, 
who found clemency with their hands full of blood, littering 
            Iraqi soil with pieces of anything that moved, before             
            sealing the grey room full of spent casings and             
            desecrated souvenirs, 
who longed for the diplomacy of war and mocked the global 
            constraints on his sovereign, hawking pre-emptive             
            strikes before testifying by proxy on the brief ride of a             
            best-seller then slowly fading into oblivion, 
who ate Zimbabwe leopard and flashed the elephant’s     
            severed tail, bottom-feeding hunters looting charities             
            and always punching down, 
who wept in private at the lack of romance, and swatted away             
            the grabbing hand that leaves them to walk in the rain             
            without an umbrella, 
who sat uninvited at the G20 breathing in rarefied air while            
          longing for daddy’s lap, and hawked dresses and black             
            beans from high atop her princess loft, 
who coughed up sneering contempt at the enemy of the people, 
            ever-spinning mouthpiece flamethrowing unapologetic             
            never-lie explanations behind the desecrated podium, 
who sprayed his mercenary blackwater on foes both foreign 
            and domestic while his sister prayerfully profited from 
            turning American education into gibberish, 
who cooked up & sold his own mythology from the heart 
            of the apple, eyes frozen with robotic denials, 
            backchanneling royal quid pro quos with 
            incarcerated cronies, 
who plunged themselves into meaningless analysis 
            searching for covfefe, 
who tossed their bow tie off-camera to be recast as the peak of 
            Broadcast Urinalism & pissed out Eternities of Hate 
            from beneath white sheets for the next generation 
who cut off the opposition on a Texas freeway and brought 
            mob rule to free and fair elections, lost, and were 
            forced onto other platforms where they cried to each 
            other and to their Q-Anon Jesus, 
who burned alive the hardwon stars ‘n’ bars of Pentagon 
            uniforms in exchange for brand loyalty and armed 
            American soldiers on armed American streets amid 
            the squeal of ammonium nitrate delivery trucks & the 
            sinister click of semi-automatic pitchforks, or 
            committed lynchings as faith-drunk patriots from an 
            Alternate Reality, 
who jumped into a Philadelphia press conference at Four 
            Seasons Total Landscaping this actually happened then 
            walked forgotten past the crematorium and the adult 
            novelty shop in a ghostly industrial alley, not even one 
            free dildo, 
who greased the wheels or ground them to a halt depending, 
            gave their own twisted sperm to zombie corporate 
            personhood, wallowed proudly in zero-sum politics, 
            leaped on negroes, smirk-gloated unclean through the 
            halls of justice, jackboot danced on the corpse of 
            democracy, raised obstruction to an art form and 
            subjected generations of the many to the whims of the 
            few, skillful deaf to the sick, poor, voiceless and voteless 
            in twisted allegiance to a party you were not invited to, 
who drilled down thru the deepstate conspiracy to the even 
            deeper deepstate conspiracy to the even even deeper 
            deeper deepstate conspiracy til finally falling flailing 
            through the flaky crust of this our flattened earth, 
who with mere days to spare, leased 1.6 million acres of 
            wildcountry for visions of wells, visions of jobs, and 
            visions of irresponsible stewardship for all Eternity, 
who lost in Michigan, who lost in Wisconsin, who lost in 
            Arizona, who lost in Pennsylvania, and who lost three
            times in Georgia, but still won in their own mind & 
            brooded & tweeted from their Golf Course in Virginia as 
            their father’s dark memory hungered only for winners, 
who fell to their knees on the Oval Office sofa, praying for 
            victims of the Bowling Green massacre and illuminating 
            alternative facts, 
who crashed Rudy’s party releasing the Kraken in vengeful 
            wrath over Satan’s Dominion & subsequently 
            presented impossible mountains of Venezuelan & 
            Cuban evidence over 30,000 fraudulent votes from a 
            food truck & a circus full of witless witnesses, 
who should retire to Mar-a-Lago and cultivate a life, to learn 
            to laugh besides at somebody and at least get a fucking 
            dog and maybe get dug by the blistering quicksilver jazz 
            rage of Albert Ayler or at least Kenny G, 
who demanded martial law accusing the media & Democrats
            of stealing a free & fair election & were left with empty             
            hands & sour grape cries for Civil War,
who spilled childbrains upon the asphalt streets of Baghdad             
            and subsequently presented themselves as exalted             
            warriors, serving only cruelty in a madhouse massacre             
            of fourteen innocents, contractors of slaughter building             
            vectors of grief and mercenary impunity,
and who were given instead the spiteful mercy of a failed             
            despot, rewarder of fraud witness tampering tax eva-
            sion influence peddling conspiracy pimping assault &
            murder, but most all, loyalty, 
who in humorless protest overturned exactly zero election 
            results, dreaming nightly of electoral coups, 
returning again & again to the concrete mirage of fake ballots  
            cast & recast by millions of dead Communist immi- 
            grants & calling for the madman doom of a new 
            election to be held under martial law,
Keystone State’s, Arizona’s and Wisconsin’s voting laws             
            bickered & parsed by those with an eye on 2024,
            rocking the base, tipping the scales, and sharpening            
            the flagpoles of foaming patriots, dreaming of a night-            
            mare of lynched bodies tried & convicted by mob             
who fucked up fucked with and fucked their way up the
             White House ladder, drunk, packing & unelectable,             
             grabbing the ill-timed notebook and grabbing ass and            
             grabbing the disagreeable placard, a bully with              
             opportunistic conscience, peddling influence and sound             
             bites with no discernable obligation to the truth,
america, while you are not safe i am not safe, and now             
             masked & armed you stand before me unrecognizable
             in your anger fear need & utter denial –
and who therefore left their paying friends adrift on the red             
             carpets of Palm Beach, obsessed with overturning the             
             tables of democracy & betrayed even by their own             
             Judas VP and their former senate majority enabler,
  who dreamt of incoherent revolution, briefly suspending time
             and storming the slightly opened gates, enabled by
             elected insurrectionists and feeling loved & special by
             their savior of the twisted cross, coming in peace &             
             bullet-proof vests while gunning for traitors & satanic             
             opposition & indulging in the celebratory tantrum             
             dance of the Angry White Man 
to smash the test tubes of this Our Great Experiment, with jack-            
             boot echoes in once-hallowed halls springing from            
             dogwhistle call-to-arms, shameless heavy-duty zip ties             
             seeking someone they did not vote for & leaving behind 
             the viral rumor of roasted nuts
the grifter and his marks, over 74 million strong, laying down             
             a reality show for the ages, a ratings coup for the eyeball             
             farmers and a little death for our collective humanity, 
then shrinking before our very eyes in the hot piss glow of a       
             spotlight cursed & craved, whispering ghost strains of a 
             farewell song forever noteless unsacred catalyst for so  
             much of America’s naked suffering & perfect flawed             
             vessel for entire universes where heart does not matter
with the absolute heart of a once-great nation butchered on the   
             altar of their own quenchless ego, may they live on in    
             irrelevance for a thousand years.      

(my)HOWL – II


What twisted craftsman of bone and blood could revel in the
            sacrifice of his own creation gutted upon the 
            blasphemous altar of self-reverence?
Nebro!  Demiurge!  Fool!  Rebel!  Expelled from the Fullness to             
            bask in mirrored adulation!  Depriving his children of
            The Ultimate Spark!  Dousing Holy Thirst with the
            brackish water of forgetfulness!
Nebro!  Nebro!  Pretender to Greatness Nebro!  Nebro the             
            arrogant!  Vengeful Nebro!  Nebro the flawed creator of
            this flawed world!
Nebro the pridefully ignorant!  Nebro the lion-headed snake-
            child of Chaos, Nebro the corrupted false-father!  Nebro 
            whose unflinching demand for loyalty is itself a 
            betrayal!  Nebro the deceiving redeemer!
Nebro who would wall-in the Infinite!  Nebro whose blood
            flows without heart pumping!  Nebro whose fingers
            lack the finishing touch!  Nebro who’s puffed chest is
            always hollow!  Nebro with willfully deaf ears to the
            harmony that resonates fully without mass!
Nebro who is blind to universes beyond the breath of his             
            atmosphere!  Nebro whose scaled forgeries demand                   
            endless devotion!  Nebro who dreams of the vengeance             
            before the betrayal!  Nebro the sower of empty seeds!              
            Nebro the reaper of a barren garden!
Nebro whose love is bestowed with conditions!  Nebro            
            whose spirit never becomes fully manifest!  Nebro
            whose wealth reeks of Ponzi alchemy!  Nebro whose             
            fate is but humbling reabsorbtion into the unseen!              
            Nebro whose name is, sadly, not unpronounceable!
Nebro who in loneliness begat creation!  Nebro and his ToyBox      
            of wonders!  Nebro the mere reflection!  Nebro mated 
            with his own madness!  Cast away and visionless Nebro!
Nebro who entered the garden uninvited!  Nebro the luminous 
            dark shadow obscuring consciousness!  Nebro the 
            abandoned child jealous father!  Living in the dream of Nebro!  
            Longing for the self-generating light!
Nebro!  Nebro!  corrupted offerings!  warped cathedrals! 
            distorted hymns!  suppressed gospels!  demonic
            minions!  spectral acolytes!  the maker and the made!              
            devout mockeries!  holy forgeries!
They stared in awe at the at the skewed perfection of Nebro!               
            matter, form, density, time!  the lush field of corporeal
            distraction!  cloaking the divine infinite which is 
            everywhere about us!
Surviving!  attracting!  acquiring!  controlling!  do-ing
            be-ing! the whole experience-ing of exist-ing!
Dreams!  aspirations!  yearnings!  gnawing hungers!  all side-
            effects of his unholy counterfeit separation!
Break through!  beyond the canopy!  beyond the lack!  beyond
            the given perception!  immunity from the fire!  vision
            and resurrection!  from banishment to liberation to 
            transcendence!  Fuck Nebro and his brimstone 
            tantrums!  the true god is no cannibal!
 Fly away now, fly away!  We’ve seen enough!  barricaded
             democracy!  freedom behind fences!  They slipped out 
             the back!  They headed south for the winter!  to 
             emptiness!  fired!  this bitter pill!  this malignant 
             footnote!  into the past! 

(my)HOWL – III


George Floyd! I’m with you in Minneapolis
where for eight minutes and 46 seconds, we cannot
I’m with you in Brunswick
where, for jogging while Black, we get hunted down for
sport by a box of crackers
I’m with you in Buffalo
where we are told that we tripped and fell, while blood
flows freely from our head and the RoboCops go
marching marching on
I’m with you at a Taco Bell Drive-Thru in Vallejo
where had we known it was our Last Supper
we would have fallen asleep at a Burger King
I’m with you in Louisville
where we are shot eight times on a botched warrant,
but hey – accidents will happen
I’m with you in Oakland
where we are boogaloo ambushed as uniformed
casualties of the race war, while our Top Cop still thinks
the real enemy is the anti-Fascists
I’m with you in Dayton
because even insane people are guaranteed their
Second Amendment rights
I’m with you on the shores of the Rio Grande
face down next to our beautiful baby girl
I’m with you in El Paso
where by the time we realize those were not
firecrackers, it is too late
I’m with you in Istanbul
a mere journalist, dismembered
I’m with you in San Juan
where we’re mopping up what’s left of our lives with a
single sacred roll of the quicker picker upper
I’m with you in Las Vegas
where lead rains down upon Mandalay Bay and we
laugh like crisis actors waiting for a check from
George Soros
I’m with you in Charlottesville
where careening metal makes us fly like bowling pins,
and where he pleads guilty, but not nearly guilty enough
I’m with you in San Antonio
where we ride in on eternity’s darkness, taking our last
breath together in search of a better life
I’m with you on the Portland MAX
bleeding out for the hijabs of total strangers
I’m with you in Roger Ailes’ office
vomiting into his wastepaper basket
I’m with you in Berkeley
watching some good cops as they watch us getting
clubbed by some good people
I’m with you in Kenosha
where for seven times our three young children
get to watch us getting shot in the back
I’m with you in Afghanistan
where the Mother of all Bombs killed no civilians
except us
I’m with you in New York City
where our last thoughts came in a ventilator crying
for our mothers along with only 400,000 others
I'm with you in Michigan
where we almost got kidnapped by patriots for daring
to close the gymnasiums
I’m with you in Columbus
where our keys are in the door and we are on the floor
with blood with sandwiches with three shots to the back
And I’m with you in Columbus
I’m with you in Our Nation's Capitol,
dying in service to an extinguishing ideal
I’m with you in every burned-out Church & Synagogue,
& every shot-up school, house party & dance hall, every
emergency room, meat locker & morgue, where in my
dreams, through smoke & bullet holes, through my final
longing for your voice your touch your very smell, you
wipe away my tears and convince me that someday every-
thing is gonna be all right



Wholly Holey! Wholly Holey Whole Hole! Holy Hole! Holy!
         Holy Hole! Wholly Holy Holey Hole!
 The planet is holey! The spirit is holey! Black skin is holey!
         White skin is holey! Brown skin is holey! Red skin is
         holey! Yellow skin is holey! Green skin is holey! Blue
         skin is holey! All skin is holey! No skin is holey!
 Everything is wholly holey! everybody’s wholly holey! in every
         heart everywhere, there are holy, holy holes! an eternity
         in four years!  a Sucker born every sacred minute!
 The anarchist’s as holey as the storm trooper!  the politician’s  
         as holey as the soulless unnamed PACs are holey!
 The aching thumbs are holey the latent live-streams are holey
         the thirsty ears are holey the on-line tip jars are holey!
 Holey Sally Yates!  Holey Preet Barhara!  Holey Christine
         Blasey Ford!  Holey Walter Schaub Jr!  Holey Marie
         Yovanovitch!  Holey Lieutenant Colonel Alexander
         Vindman!  Holey Dr. Anthony Fauci!  Holey Coach
         Aaron Feis!  Holey the unknown casualties of politics
         after midnight and off the clock!   Holey the awesome
         and horrible singular reality!
 Holey whistleblower Edward Snowden!  Holey journalist Julian
         Assange!  Holey patriot Chelsea Manning!
 Holey the latent stutterstep jamnation!  Holy the fucking Zoom 
         Apocalypse!  Holy the distanced drummers as they 
         groove in 13/8 bongos & forgiveness & legal marijuana!
 Holey the solitudes of the ICU and the meatlocker morgues!
         Holey the agony of the 6-feet untouchables!  Holey the
         stinking masks and streets of discarded rubber gloves!
 Holey the deepstate multitudes!  Holey the vast flocks of
         libtards and sheeple!  Holey the flaming passions of
         low-information zealotry!  Who digs The Confederacy
         IS The Confederacy!
 Holey Tulsa Holey Phoenix Holey Tampa Holey Winston &
         Salem Holey Henderson Holey Johnstown Holey Des
         Moines Holey Greenville Holey Macon Holey Reno
         Holey Las Vegas Holey Pensacola Holey Allentown
         Holey Omaha Holey Kenosha Holey Bullhead City!
 Holey time holey life holey family holey relationship holey
         cohort holey precious routine and schedule holey
         expectations holey the crumbling kingdom of Nebro!
 Holey the heart holey the mind holey the feelings holy intuition 
         holey knowledge beyond training holey spontaneous
         knowing holey the wholly holy self and the wholly holy
         holey vision and holey the incomprehensible void!
 Holey the eternal extra brilliant flame of our wholly holy holy
         birthright to be whole! 



In wrapping up these four long years of Hell,
Events and characters beyond belief
We see uncertain glimmers of relief
As we bid some a not-so-fond farewell.

Kushner – effete and condescending fool.
The elder Brothers Trump – Butthead & Beavis.
Their sister – Nepotism Barbie – leave us.
And mom, the soft-core, mail-order jewel.

Goodbye to Giuliani’s leaking head.
Good riddance to that creepy Stephen Miller.
DeJoy, the failed mailed ballot killer.
And Barr, who left but cashed in all his cred.

So long Hope Hicks, Mulvaney and DeVos.
The ever poised & truthful McEnany.
Throw all his aides and staff out on their fanny,
And best of all on Wednesday, toss the boss.

Fade out on Limbaugh, Carlson & Hannity,
Fade in a smooth transition into sanity.

January, 2021


Staring at the TV in a daze,
Celebrating in more subdued ways.
For some it’s quite clear
The Real New Year
Begins in just 19 more days.


When Donald said “Turn off the dough”,
Both houses told him where to go.
You may think they’re neato
Overriding his veto
But Defense will not stand for a “No”.


Baseless claims without evidence.
A lawsuit dismissed against Pence
But still, scream some guys,
Wednesday’s gonna be pretty intense.


It’s Sunday and the president is calling
To beg and flatter, threaten and coerce,
To add another chapter to the verse.
Response from his supporters mostly galling.

The tainted ballot tales are mushrooming.
Some players get particularly vocal,
With armed and angry crowds to make it local.
Season finale episode is looming.

A man, recorded, asked to find some votes.
A view of things. A view of things, denied
And knowing which among them both has lied
And what one’s blind acceptance here connotes.

What will he say in Georgia later on.
What will he say when he is finally gone.


When Trump went to Dalton GA,
We knew what the guy’d have to say.
There’s no way he lost,
He don’t care the cost,
And he don’t plan on going away.


The ballot count trickles along.
In DC, a gathering throng.
The feelings are strong,
But what’s really wrong
Is what’s going on in Hong Kong.


a call to arms, a march to stop the steal,
and then what Rudy calls “trial by combat”
disrupts the House & Senate’s sacred format.
a terrorist in Mitch’s seat. surreal.

a coup attempt results in people dying
a nation holds its breath, a world observes
a demagogue makes clear just who he serves
followed by governmental speechifying.

unlucky us with thirteen days to go
the 25th amendment in our dreams
unfit to lead, too sick to leave, it seems
what some of us knew all along, you know

four years, McConnell bowed to Trump’s authority
and for his efforts, lost senate majority


His calling for calm? I don’t buy it.
Impeachment? I think we should try it.
He was cheering them on.
He deserves to be gone.
That asshole incited a riot!


The recap, score, and stinging aftermath
With Breaking News and much analysis
We try to figure what fresh hell is this.
The soul of our sad country needs a bath.

Now slowly there are names to match the faces.
Who let them pass. Who sadly had to pay
The price for keeping nihilists at bay,
And who bore witness from safe hiding places.

Know that some do not come to Stop The Steal
Not Left or Right, their goal is to destroy
A cause to gather stands as but a ploy
In chaos and collapse lies their appeal.

As balance, a lone Congressman brings grace
And kneels in silence, cleaning up the place.


As riot replaces debate,
He’s Making America Hate.
We’ll burst at the seams
Being pushed to extremes
With others deciding our fate.


So Trump and Parler got rejection.
Despite First Amendment protection.
I hate to be rude
Free Speech don’t include
Inciting a damned insurrection.


A guy in the Senate named Hawley
Engaged in political folly.
He made Mitch lose face
Standing tall with Trump’s base,
And lost his book deal, by golly.


With all the charges made about vote stealing,
And every one of them tossed from the court,
To watch our Senate turned into a fort,
Don’t bother coming ‘round with talk of healing.

Insurgents set our Capitol a-reeling
With such grandstanding not to certify
And now it’s said some seek to unify.
I’m sorry, this is not the time for healing.

The Trumpers say “fuck you and how you’re feeling”
They speak of lynching with perverted glee
Their view of freedom not including me
Their battleground permits no space for healing.

So now I gladly set aside my rhyme
To watch their boy impeached a second time.


That small-handed lying-ass boaster
Got a double-impeachment spit-roaster.
He was hoping for
His face on Rushmore
But may end up on a WANTED poster.


His lawsuits got stuck at the gate,
But Donald still says Rudy’s great!
Expenses and fees?
20 grand a day, please?
For that part, he’ll just have to wait.


Slow-motion endless wait, four days to go.
So many jumping ship, tho tempos vary
The ones still sticking ‘round are kinda scary.
His final days spent clearing out Death Row.

Before post-presidential life begins.
And creditors and lawyers have their way
The title and the job not holding sway
Perhaps the time to answer for one’s sins.

And what awaits the next to take command
A leaky ship adrift on stormy seas,
A bevy of land mines and vacancies,
Armed patriots who want to lend a hand.

But still we find that little bit of heaven.
The NRA goes for Chapter 11.


All whipped into action they’d go,
Prepared for a violent show.
A riled up mob
Just doin’ their job.
Their president said it was so.


In wrapping up these four long years of Hell,
Events and characters beyond belief
We see uncertain glimmers of relief
As we bid some a not-so-fond farewell.

Kushner – effete and condescending fool.
The elder Brothers Trump – Butthead & Beavis.
Their sister – Nepotism Barbie – leave us.
And mom, the soft-core, mail-order jewel.

Goodbye to Giuliani’s leaking head.
Good riddance to that creepy Stephen Miller.
DeJoy, the failed mailed ballot killer.
And Barr, who left but cashed in all his cred.

So long Hope Hicks, Mulvaney and DeVos.
The ever poised & truthful McEnany.
Throw all his aides and staff out on their fanny,
And best of all on Wednesday, toss the boss.

Fade out on Limbaugh, Carlson & Hannity,
Fade in a smooth transition into sanity.


One more day and we’ll be free
From his reign of misery.
No more tweets & no more crooks,
No more Donald’s pouty looks.

December, 2020


Inside he plays fire’ and replace,
While outside he riles up his base.
He’ll sabotage more,
Leave a turd on the floor,
And cut his nose to spite his face.


In a bribery-for-pardon REDACTED,
The attorney and client REDACTED.
A troubling scheme
From a lobbying team
To benefit __ and REDACTED.


Now pardoned and just oozing gratitude,
A General calls out for Martial Law
Redo the vote for its corrupted flaw.
O please. May this pathetic mess conclude.

His lawyer rails on to Stop the Steal.
With wild claims devoid of evidence,
And filings “biblical” with little sense.
A pause to wonder is this bitch for real.

And what a time for William Barr to fail.
Betraying Trump by finding zero fraud.
For one so loyal, this is very odd.
Perhaps a Biden check is in the mail.

Our nation pays a very heavy cost
Because this loser can’t accept: He. Lost.


The Golden State’s in quite a quandary.
A common way forward is gone-dree.
We shelter in place
And cover our face
While Newsom dines at the French Laundry.


A Pentagon purge has begun.
If you’re not tight with Trump, you are done.
It’s a soldier’s chagrin
To find that you’re in
An Army that’s of and for one.


I proudly state before both man and God
My victory comes easily and quickly
If not for evil agents acting slickly
To perpetrate this monumental fraud.

As President I’m asking you to see
If these these electors could be overridden
And should you think this question is forbidden,
The Hatch Act just does not apply to me.

My base knows god damned well that Biden cheated.
My base knows god damned well I walk on water.
Don’t be the guy who gets to own the slaughter
That waits to happen should I be defeated.

If I take Georgia, all falls into place.
If not, my father holds me in disgrace.


Giuliani has COVID’s the header.
Of course, we all hope he gets better.
Though his case is unravelin’
He sure has been travelin’.
This unmasked one-man super-spreader.


Our nation is going insane.
Bi-polar realities, twain.
A circuit is fried
That’s exemplified
By Trump and his damn monkey brain.


A surprising unanimous blow
Clearly states what we already know.
He can still try and cheat,
But his ass – it got beat,
And even his SCOTUS says, “NO.”


So what will his lie of the day be.
Was there fraud? No. Not even maybe.
Conservative whacks
Still distort the facts
To placate this tantruming baby.


Dick Hinch saw COVID with a scoff.
Not a care for a fever or cough.
The New Hampshire speaker
Thought caution was weaker.
And proudly died with his mask off.


A “No” comes from the court of rightward tilt:
A state’s election’s none of Texas’ business.
Yet some still rise to serve His Royal Hizness.
And help him play the fraud card to the hilt.

Ken Paxton led the loyal charge today
Against “who serve convenience over law”,
Not one to grasp his case’s fatal flaw,
Perhaps to grab a pardon down the way.

When will our grifter say “enough’s enough”.
And stop this spewing of Alternate Facts
And sate his hunger for destructive acts.
His followers are mad, and they play rough.

Four years we watched this circus-horror show.
Now, there are thirty-nine more days to go.


There once was a lass named Melissa
Who testified drunk as a pissah.
We question the fitness
Of Rudy’s star witness
But Donny Boy still wants to kiss ‘er.


Belligerent, drunk, agitated.
Often armed and poorly educated.
The Proud Boys – A blight
From the fascist far-right.
Wish their daddies had just masturbated.


86 judges and 50 court losses
Said “no” to our would-be boss of all bosses.
With no nod to fraud, not even a token,
At last, the Electoral College has spoken.

Yet after four years of his conning and sinning
The Cheeto Benito still thinks that he’s winning.
On one side, the evidence lines up with facts
The other side offers us threats and Newsmax.

Divided by paranoid calls for resistance
And fueled by delusional, baseless insistence,
Through sad weeks of law suits, due process assailed,
Our crum’bling democracy somehow prevailed.

Now, even Bill Barr’s had enough of this jerk
And as of today, he’s out looking for work.


A relationship’s going to pot.
Poor Trump and McConnell are fraught.
It’s a parting of ways
For in 35 days,
One will still have a job, one will not.


an old page gets turned
as asterisked statistics
join the Major Leagues


The law is quite clear in Palm Beach:
Mar a Lago is past Donald’s reach.
Our so-soon ex-President
Cannot be a resident
With numerous contracts in breach.


The election he still is disputin’
Democrat fraud? Yer darn tootin’!
Corruption! Deceit!
But still not a tweet
On hackings by his buddy Putin.


Thirty-one. A month to play the waiting game
And what more will he break before he leaves.
Each minute now another loved one grieves
His actions – and inactions – soak up blame.

And without pardons guess who’s heads may roll
Because of Donald’s campaign money laundry.
Now Lara, Kim and Jared in a quandary
With other family members on the payroll.

King Lear in winter calls upon the loyal
A craven yet an ever-dwindling lot.
They clutch at fading options as they rot
To keep the sad reign of this festered boil.

With no concession, ever crying foul,
He ponders Special Council Sydney Powell.


Our ICU units are burning.
Those losing their jobs’ guts are churning
And yet there’s no doubt
All that he cares about
Is election results overturning.


A loser who’d burn all to win.
A liar who’s yarn has worn thin.
A taker who’ll skim
According to whim.
A dictator made out of tin.


His pardons are so out of hand.
Where will all these ex-criminals land.
It may be insane
But I won’t complain
With my stimulus check for 2-grand.


Now innocence is issued by decree.
Where 60 men of 65 are cronies
Incredible. These guys are great. No phonies.
Unlock the gates and let them all go free.

Past actions and behaviors indicated
All efforts in his service are rewarded
And by the pow’r his office has afforded,
Fraud, witness tampering, and murder vindicated.

Now in what petty, nauseating ways
In these remaining twenty-seven days
Will he assure that each opponent pays
For how they ruled on if he goes or stays.

Our deepest sense of justice, cast a-splinter
Observing this Hyena in his Winter.


The stimulus sputters and kluges
Our Government plays us for stooges.
Our way of life wrecked
But what to expect
From a Ruling Class made up of Scrooges.

A sincere and heartfelt Merry Christmas to you and all in your circle.


A car in Nashvile explodes.
The out-of-work lose their abodes.
Trump stays out of reach.
Tee time in Palm Beach
As so much around us erodes.


How many million lose their benefits
How many more already through the cracks
The breaking burdens carried on their backs.
This way of doing business is the shits.

How much pork barrel hidden in relief
How much the pain of landing on the street
Arriving at the ends to find no meat
A New Year’s hope already soaked in grief.

How can a soulless process turn away
How can a system try but fail so many
We small fry, ever dancing for a penny.
Far more than Trump stand guilty on this day.

How sad his interest is but to discover
Just why his wife’s not featured on the cover.


In tweets he’s dejected and bitter.
Won’t concede, but behaves like a quitter.
His erratic deeds
Confirms that he needs
An enema and a sitter.


Dan Patrick has offered, by God,
A million for proof there’s been fraud.
John Fetterman say
He found one in PA,
But the vote was for Trump. How odd.


In view of an upcoming date,
Our president ponders his fate.
The poor guy is hurting.
It’s so disconcerting
That lawsuits and audits await.


A year of loss, a year of profound change
An arc not stalled by simple turn of page
Continuation of the hope and rage
But please, a little less of scary-strange.

Just let this nightmare slither out the door
Each day brought scenes of humans at their worst
And may tomorrow bring a better first
With just a hint of healing at the core.

Here’s to a peaceful final twenty days
No drama or events on which he thrives,
Ringmaster for this circus of our lives,
Just darken now the stage on which he plays.

May 2021 bring some good stuff
Of 2020 we have had enough.

November, 2020


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.

Happy Thanksgiving!


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.
From electrocution
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.

October, 2020


Good people are wondering why
Donald told the Proud Boys to stand by.
He’d rather you bleed
Than to ever concede.
Dear God, what a pip of a guy.


What does the future hold, what does it mean
To spend such energy poo-pooing masks
While tending to fundraising rally tasks,
And now you find yourself in quarantine.

Drown out the experts. Elevate the quacks.
Downplay it and dismiss it as a hoax
Use victims as the butt of your sad jokes
The virus doesn’t care who it attacks.

Make pouty faces. Hurl your insults.
Pretend to all the world that you’re immune
They’ve seen. They know you’re just a big buffoon.
Shut up, go home & wait for the results.

It’s said the symptoms can be quite infernal.
You’re positive, but hey – Hope springs Eternal.


Submitted at this time for your approval:
A man indulged in risk and spreading lies
Airlifted for his care before our eyes.
Ten more so far with quarantined removal.

The new Rose Garden dared reveal its thorn.
As social Senators and staff got pricked
When Trump announced that Barrett was his pick.
Mixed feelings here within a nation torn.

We’ll push on through says Mitch McConnell, scoffing.
The vote will come as planned – no need to fear.
How fitting he’s pretending not to hear
The sound of more committee members coughing.

A new dimension far beyond the known
A far-off place we call…
The Twilight Zone


Our President’s had quite a scare.
Walter Reed – yeah, it’s good that he’s there.
No time for the flu,
He’s got work to do –
Like gutting Affordable Care.


Donald Trump just did something outrageous.
He went out for a drive while contagious.
Was he breathing toward
Secret Service on board?
Well, I hope that they’re making good wages.


Triumphant in return he mounts the stair.
A stop. A photo-op. Mask off with flair.
He stares the virus in the eye and wins.
Round Two of staff infection now begins.

Salute the docs who brought about this day
With care beyond what we could ever pay
Salute the magic raft of drugs they used
That may leave him unstable and confused.

And now he’s back at work, signing and tweeting
Three days after he gave Covid a beating
Salute the man himself. He’s at his peak.
I guess the folks who died were just too weak.

How will this drama play on the election
The Legend of Trump’s Covid Resurrection.


The man is a walking insult.
So evil, he’s almost occult.
I’ve no shits to give.
His sole positive:
His own recent COVID result.


Trump’s disasters Pence chose to ignore,
Spouting fear for what Joe has in store.
The distortions he spread
Made the fly on his head
A pungently apt metaphor.


There once was an angry armed crew
That plotted a Michigan coup.
Drag the Gov out the door,
Incite Civil War.
No bitch gon’ tell them what to do.


Bill Barr has his loyalty tested.
With all of the time he’s invested,
Obama and Biden
And Clinton’s still hidin’.
Drag ‘em out and let’s have ‘em arrested!


Without me and my small but iron fist,
Your life as you once knew it will go blammo.
You’ll lose your Christian churches and your ammo.
Your nation will become a Socialist.

For Biden and his monster running mate,
Beholden to dark forces pulling strings,
Will bring to our Republic, awful things.
Undoing all I did to make it great.

It’s not about the money that I owe,
Or what I’ll face if I’m not re-elected,
Or issues in my tax returns, detected.
It’s love of God and Country, don’t you know.

Our Law & Order president has spoken,
But not about the laws he might have broken.


And finally the last 100 days.
Our countdown to the next inauguration.
Four years, whole lifetimes, passed within our nation,
And change – evolved; imposed – in countless ways.

A country rended by conflicting facts,
And seasons of great floods followed by fire
The temperature of escalating ire
With punctuating bloody, random acts.

This gravity of systems in collapse
Spurred onward by a madman at the wheel
A pestilence that many doubt is real
While far too many battle over scraps.

His tenure brought us so much unexpected.
What would be now had he not been elected.


Judge Barrett is one righteous chick.
A Republican Values hat trick.
Most women can see
She’s no RBG.
They’ll be barefoot and pregnant and sick.


How joyous to go thru a day
That balanced out work rest and play,
Then raising a toast
To the all-too-rare boast
Neither COVID nor Donald held sway.


Intelligent and poised. Outstanding dancer.
Her deft responses cool, too cool perhaps
This dream come true for textualist chaps
Unspoken knowns in what she would not answer.

The smugness from the ones who hold the aces.
While others question with dire predictions.
Past writings indicate her predilections,
But not a word was heard from her on cases.

Perhaps when faith and truth become so certain,
A truth that lay beyond becomes obscured,
So measured in injustices endured
By those who cannot see behind the curtain.

America could end up very odd
Were she to use her robes to serve her God.


At the Town Hall, that president guy
Yelled a lot and told lie after lie.
Our foul orange knave
Crowed about a red wave.
It’s a wave alright. Waving goodbye.


Cal fires are brutally tough.
Getting money to fight them is rough.
They’re torching our land
But talk to the hand
Because Gav didn’t grovel enough.


It’s a challenging time for our nation.
Altogether, a sad situation.
Every headline I read
Seems to tragically lead
To an ad for another donation.


Four years ago we saw a loser win.
The true majority, it did not rule.
A process artly gamed to our chagrin,
And since that time has played us for a fool.

Pulled out of balance by a loud extreme,
A center skewed past any recognition.
But notice, as before, behind the scene,
The profit takers clutching the ignition.

Trump’s real brand is not conservatism
It’s taking taking taking taking taking
The selfish piss of fire on the schism
And sick delight in witnessing the breaking.

Let’s end this poison game that he’s begun.
Our crazy uncle’s had far too much fun.


On health, Trump is truly a master.
Covid’s hitting more frequent and faster.
While just as expected,
Science gets rejected,
And he sez Fauci’s the disaster.


An epidemic at the border
From Trump’s imposition of order –
Of kids separated
From parents, it’s stated.
(Over 500, says a reporter).


Iran better leave us alone.
They’ve meddled with voters, it’s shown.
Sending threats, sowing doubt –
Guess they haven’t found out –
We’re screwing up fine on our own.


Neither one of them came off unkind.
They both kicked a little behind.
Some facts got refuted,
Nobody got muted,
And no one is changing their mind.


There are some who may look askance
At a recently filmed circumstance:
A hotel, a bed,
An old man misled,
And Rudy with hand in his pants.


Despite all the problems about,
Beyond a scintilla if doubt,
After four years of grief,
We’ll taste some relief,
The moment that we vote him out.


The questions, he was warned, they would be tough.
The leader of the free world couldn’t take it.
The lights too bright to even let him fake it,
He stopped and said “I think we have enough”

A tantrum as he pouts and takes a walk
Fake news in all its bias, hatred, rudeness.
No Hannity softballs for Orange Dudeness.
He tells the woman “that’s no way to talk”

How sad the free press leaves him little choice.
Defensively, he’ll lie, distort, discredit.
He didn’t say it even if he said it.
It’s Social Media that gives him voice.

And after Leslie’s interview goes south,
Pence lectures us from both sides of his mouth


It appears that decisions are nearing
With results Democrats are all fearing.
Soon enough we’ll find out
Her opinions about
Things she wouldn’t discuss at the hearing.


Who knows if it’s talent or luck
Or willingness to spend a buck
Whatever the reason
This crazy-ass season
Big deal. The Dodgers still suck.


They say these men created what we see –
His father, yes. And Norman Vincent Peale.
That snake Roy Cohn – his influence, so real.
Observe the marks upon him from the three.

No mercy in attacks or accusations.
Deny and counter. Leave the bloody scars.
This from Roy Cohn, witch hunter to the stars,
Who spread his AIDS through countless assignations.

And father Fred, another of the pillars.
He taught Don well: do what it takes to win.
To show a weakness is the only sin.
For in this world, there’s losers and there’s killers.

These two perspectives have so much to give
Wrapped in the pow’r of thinking positive.


An Omaha sight to behold:
Trump supporters left out in the cold.
They wait for a bus,
He leaves without fuss,
And that’s why they love him, we’re told.


When our nation’s economy’s swell,
Trump will tell ya that he made it jell.
With relief checks delayed,
And the stock market frayed,
The credit is his there as well.