June, 2018

Despite the man’s past guilty plea,
Donald Trump lets D’Souza go free.
A conspiracy peddler,
And e-lection meddler,
Twists his facts with a demonic glee.

This pardon comes as no surprise.
It’s the “justice” one’s loyalty buys.
Since his Left is pure fiction,
Written just to cause friction,
His reward’s for distortion and lies.

So the Summit is back on the rails.
Ah, such back-channel moves this entails.
Tho things appear better,
Could Trump read Kim’s letter?
And what are the odds that he bails.

The poverty that plagues our once great nation,
Far bleaker for the Working Poor who fear it,
A deeper, darker poverty of spirit.
Imbued within the cult of higher station,

Now proved by twisted scriptural belief,
Sung loud and proudly by this false messiah.
Brush off the needful hand. Ignore the cry,
Assured the lesser ones deserve their grief.

Now, take. Let’s blow this chasm even wider.
The table has been set – it’s time to feed,
This god himself has said – indulge your greed.
Rip open Mother Earth and reach inside her.

Behold our cruelly First World destitution
Enriched by governmental prostitution.

Monsanto, the evil bee slayer
Has polluted our land, see and air.
Their modified seeds
And their killers of weeds
Are now owned by Germany’s Bayer.

Relentlessly the border battle rages
Against the animals, MS-13.
Though Merkley’s visit paints another scene –
Of babies ripped from moms and put in cages.

To Texas he did go, and there he tried
To see up close, effects of Trump’s restriction
To stem the tide of immigrant affliction.
A private prison, closed. Access: denied.

If you’re against his Iron Fist, then you’re to blame
For all the brown skinned rapists in our land.
And in his tweets you’ll read his reprimand
And know by how he plays: this is no game.

Asylum seekers, you are getting hosed.
The president has said – the gates are closed.

A defendant named Paul Manafort
Is enduring his long day in court.
Was Justice he hampering
Through encrypted tampering?
If so, to the pen’ he’ll report.


Today, I won’t write a Trump bash again.
But another jailbird got a pass again.
After 21 years,
There’s smiles and tears
Thanks to White House Advisor Kardashian.

With grand pronouncements making sense, but barely
He gets on Air Force One bound for Quebec.
G7 talks this time might be a wreck.
Again, he whines, “we’re treated so unfairly”

And yes, we are. By him. Make no mistake.
We’re getting pressed and bled at every turn,
While judge appointments watch our freedoms burn,
And cabinet appointments take and take.

But tell our allies they’re the ones to blame.
While courting global despots you admire.
The world sees you, you narcissistic liar,
And some will view you as but Putin’s Dame.

In other news, Chef Bourdain leaves our venue.
Who knows what pains were featured on his menu.


Though the Cavs left it all on the floor,
As expected, the Dubs won in four.
Does this team feel slighted
That Trump dis-invited?
Who cares. Why bother. What for.


Trade talks in Quebec were a grind,
So Trump left our allies behind.
The G7? Not fun.
Time now for Jong Un.
A world leader who shares his like mind.


They work hard for very low wages.
Zero Tolerance for them enrages.
Often doing so much
Work white people won’t touch,
And for this, we lock them in cages.

– with apologies to Samuel Taylor Coleridge –

In Singapore did Rocket Man
To our surprise and shock, agree
To sit with he of Little Hands
And talk it over, man-to-man
Perhaps to shift this enmity.
One lays his rivals in the ground.
Dear Leader tolerates no sound
Of discord, smiling as he chalks his kills,
While stalking those who bravely dare to flee,
And plants the rest in hidden labor mills.

But oh! The other, midnight tweeting ranted,
As those who dare to cross him run for cover,
And savage Christians cheer him on, enchanted.
Asylum seekers caged, while pardons granted
By he who tries to silence former lovers.
And from this chasm, with ceaseless turmoil seething,
Young men of color murdered just for breathing,
A mighty outburst from those women, forced
Against their will. And in our classrooms, burst
Hot fragments, vaulted automatic hail
A land where ancient Constitutions fail
And mid those dancing rocks at once and ever,
Our leader pisses in our sacred river.
But years of edgy truce brings forward motion:
Two tyrants meet midst hope and great élan
The dotard and the Dennis Rodman fan,
Perhaps to once restore this lifeless ocean;
But in this tumult, voices near and far,
The neo-Cons, still hungry for their war
A shadow government’s dark pleasure.
Bloated, calculating knaves
Judge success by twisted measure,
Bombing innocents to caves,
And match his precious nuclear device
With burning fields and slowly melting ice.

Two damsels with a poisoner
In a vision once I saw:
In Malaysia, traps were laid
At the airport he got played,
Stinging, wounded by his brother,
Could but not survive the envy.
This symphony of wrong,
Brings such painful dread within me,
Still, our congress plays along,
Dismiss allies without care,
With despots now we play so nice!
And all the world shall see them there,
And all should cry, Beware! Beware!
His boyish smile, his floating hair!
Weave a circle round them thrice,
And close your eyes with holy dread
For both have signed their names in red
And spilled the milk of Paradise.

The Right saw the Free World a-foldin’.
A mistake helping despots embolden.
Obama took heat
For proposing a meet,
But since Donald Trump did it, it’s golden.

Surprising and hard to believe,
But not worth a moment to grieve.
It’s a wonderful day
When even friends say,
“Brother Pruitt, it’s time that you leave.”


Ancient wisdom, sacred truths abound.
A path to Light within these Holy Pages
Though conflict o’er their meaning often rages,
As politics will twist those words around.

To suit the power structure of the day,
Confirming God is truly on their side
Twisted scripture taken for a ride
Oh weeping mother, what would Jesus say.

To use these words to justify the cruel
Lay cause for your behavior at His feet
This God of Love the source of Love’s defeat?
How dare you play believers for a fool.

Some day for all, may it be truly seen
What Paul meant when he wrote Romans 13.


A consultant named Paul Manafort
For lobbying sins went to court.
Now, a tampering fail
Led to revoke of bail
And the Greybar Hotel is his port.


With envy, Trump took time to mention
How Kim’s people sit in rapt attention.
To win this devotion
He may take a notion
To threaten us all with detention.


The problems that face us? Immensities.
The headlines that greet us? Intensities.
But though things may be bad
They’re still not as sad
As refugees in Texas tent cities.

The traditional countdown from ten,
We hear the words “blast off!” and then,
We head for the stars,
To colonize Mars
And make outer space great again.


Among us now, a moral battle rages.
This Zero Tolerance approach to Law and Order,
Detaining “tender ages” at the border
Then, separated, see them locked in cages.

I hear the question “Is this who we are?”
Cruel history shows evidence of yes.
But some prefer to overlook the mess,
With God to wrap our flag around the scar.

These migrant youths a tragic bargain chip
For he who’s pride demands he have his wall,
While blaming Democrats to take his fall,
Make great again our country’s sinking ship.

And so with weeping days and sleepless nights,
We show the world our stance on Human Rights.

With his goal here to foster creation
Of a more bi-partisan nation,
Mike Bloomberg makes bets
On Dem candidates
With a cool 80 million donation.

In truth I was never a fan,
So I stand in support of the plan
To let her go south
With that sad racist mouth:
The Rosanne show, but without Rosanne.

A columnist name of George Will
Has writ long for the right wing, but still,
To Repubs, he says “Toodles.
They’re just Donald Trump’s poodles”.
Of their “misrule”, the man’s had his fill.

Despite all the partisan jive
It’s a fine time for being alive.
In a land far away,
They’re cheering today
Because now Saudi women can drive.

As we look at the new tariff rates,
A trade war may be tempting fates.
For in reaching to please
Customers overseas,
Harley-Davidson expatriates.

In this most recent flurry of days
The news seems like gossip or praise.
It depends where you look.
But we’re still getting took.
How I long for a parting of ways.

“Supreme” Court? You’ve GOT to be kidding.
For daily, they seem to be skidding.
As they split 5 to 4
They just play The Whore
While they rush to do Corporate’s bidding.

Some say the economy’s humming,
Others find things to do besides bumming.
But the way I am wired,
I’m anxious, and tired
Of the fear something horrible’s coming.

A nation spans beyond my Left Coast bubble
That seeks a future I don’t understand
Five Justices reach out with their Right hand
To crush assumed, established rights to rubble.

A Speaker played his hand with with master touch,
Delayed confirming til Election Day,
And tossing filibuster rules away
He gifted us the Corp’rate Shill, Gorsuch.

Now, guns and God, big business and the rich
Await the next to claim a lifetime seat
Strategic purchased victory so sweet
With thanks to silent Democrats and Mitch.

And polarized, we lash out for our goal
No care left for the damage to the whole.

Annapolis streets filled with sobs.
Another lone nut gunman robs
Life from five folks who choose
To report on the news,
And were slain just for doing their jobs.



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.

April, 2018


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.
Celebrating 4-20,
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.
Goodbye, Bill.


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.

March, 2018


The headlines can drive one insane.
Some events just bring my heart pain.
So for now I will say
That the good news today
Is to just look outside and see rain.


She’s not genius nor athlete nor bard,
Still, Melania scored a Green Card.
Was her Extraordinary Ability,
Performed with agility,
The skill to turn soft into hard?


The man who wrote Art of the Deal
Starts a tariff trade war over steel.
He says with a grin
“They’re easy to win!”
I swear. Is this guy for real??


At the Gridiron Dinner we learn
That the goal is to singe and not burn.
To take gentle pokes
And make tepid jokes.
I’m sad no one spoke out of turn.


The Oscars: Not boring, not racy.
And our host kept things moving and pace-y.
The laughs were well-seeded.
Time limits were heeded.
And no Weinstein or Lauer or Spacey.

If we don’t want a nation of fools
We must give our teachers the tools.
Not many folks like
Educators on strike.
They need money, not guns, in their schools.

‘Twas yesterday they stood before the Press
To talk about security and trade
Assurances of deals to be made
And how our Donald’s house is not a mess.

Can tariffs be imposed in “loving ways”?
The Swedish leader there expresses doubts.
As Trump, his great accomplishments he touts,
Still doesn’t know the meaning of the phrase.

A question came of Russian meddling finds.
Our leader says we’re studying the caper,
And backing up the voting logs with paper
No word on who is stuffing voter’s minds.

The meeting? A productive one at that.
Trump shook hands with a Social Democrat.

To all of the world’s danger flares,
Donald heaves a big sigh of “who cares?”
In his Ego’s bubble
The most “Stormy” trouble
Concerns his “domestic affairs”.

The head of that Korean nation
Wants to talk nuke demilitarization.
While we wonder why,
Dennis Rodman says “Hi!”,
Keeping tabs on the whole situation.

A broadcasting group named Sinclair
Spews its right-wing screed o’er the air.
It seems they confuse
Propaganda as news,
But the FCC’s head doesn’t care.

Our hollow, corrupt institution
Calls out loudly for a revolution.
A good place to start?
A deep change of heart.
Hist’ry shows guns are not the solution.


When you get a name like Kushner, it’s hard to make a rhyme.
But his story’s making headlines from the New York Post to Time.
A strategist, a publisher, a Real Estate tycoon,
A pimp of in-law influence, perhaps. We’ll all know soon.

For he used some White House meeting rooms to try and cut his deals
Until John Kelly said “Enough!” and brought him to his heels.
The things he knows. The things he’s read. How could he get a clearance.
Perhaps Ivanka’s shapely legs were running interference..

His nepotism, like so much, makes very little sense.
To wield all that influence without experience.
The lad still has his Princely Crown, regardless if it’s merited,
And sure there’s some remaining wealth from all that he’s inherited.

Too bad about that place he bought – no longer worth its bricks
It’s sad Fifth Avenue address comes up as 6 – 6 – 6.
But hey, let’s have some empathy. Who knows what one would do
When you find you have a billion dollar mortgage coming due.

So he hit up the Qataris and he tried to get a loan.
It must have looked impressive calling from a White House phone
When they demurred, he petulantly tried to fix their slaughter.
Ah, the things you get to ask for when you’ve wed the bosses’ daughter

The papers stacked on Mueller’s desk just keep on rising higher
And every day, there seems to be more coals upon the fire.
How sad to see in so few months we’ve gone from ”Yes we Can”
To craven, wanton schemes of this Banana Republican.

This morning, Pompeo’s deployment.
Put Tillerson on unemployment.
He called Trump a moron.
Let’s go get our war on.
Such chaos just serves Trump’s enjoyment.

Before all the TMZ gawking,
Before daily headlines so shocking,
He took us to school,
And made genius cool.
I’m sorry we’ve lost Stephen Hawking.

From Trump U to Taj Mahal slots,
The Donald could sure pick his spots.
So many got burned
Why haven’t we learned:
A leopard does not change his spots.

He lied about trade to Trudeau,
Took credit for Lamb’s winning glow,
And put staff is on notice.
Celebrity POTUS
Is always the star of his show.

With Pompeo soon going away,
Here comes Gina Haspel to play.
From the depths she’s arisen
Of that secret Thai prison,
Dominatrix of the CIA.

One year ago and to this very day,
My chronicle of our strange times began.
Events and actions; measures of a man,
A ritual in rhyme, as one might say,

To capture thoughts of humor and despair,
And images of our sad house, divided.
To all who care to read, I have confided –
Agree or disagree, why should we care.

Ripped from the news, assembled then in verse,
These screaming headlines of our daily lives,
Drown out the humble prayer that truth survives.
As “normal” sinks to more and more perverse.

For better or for worse here comes year two.
And in it, I wish health and peace to you.

In intrigue, his cabinet’s mired.
With 2 a.m. tweet-bombs it’s wired.
“Great job!”, “Unbelievable!”
Platitudes inconceivable.
And then bluntly ends with “You’re fired.”

In upper tiers of Government, the pressures can be big.
In fact today, for many, it’s become a part-time gig.
To note this odd phenomenon let’s take a look today
At several Public Servants that we’ve lost along the way.

The first to go was Sally Yates, who back in better times,
Decided to go after those committing Corporate Crimes.
But acting as Attorney G, as good as any man,
She got the axe for she would not enforce the Muslim ban.

Soon after that came Michael Flynn, a General, retired,
Who raised Red Flags when it came out to Russia he was wired.
Advising on Security, he finally got canned,
And later pleaded guilty for his lying on the stand.

The FBI’s James Comey heard his firing on the news.
Perhaps for actions previous, predicting Trump would lose.
Ethics Director Walter Shaub resigned when it came clear
That all the things he stood for just would not be needed here.

Sean Spicer quit the podium before he got the axe.
Perhaps he tired of wrestling with “alternative” “facts”.
Close on his heels Reince Preibus left. He didn’t have the stuff.
For all could see when Trump said “jump”, it wasn’t high enough.

The one that many called “The Mooch”, he came and went quite quickly.
But most of us remember his fine suits that glowed so slickly.
Steve Bannon? Nazi Populist? Well, what more can be said.
He once was Trump’s best buddy, true. But now to Trump, he’s dead.

Sebastian Gorka followed soon, and this walk-out would bring
A final, welcome shut-down to the White House Breitbart Wing.
Tom Price resigned. Good riddance there, for it was clearly shown,
The Health and Human Services he cared for was his own.

The Omarosa moment was tried and then aborted,
And when she left, most angrily, she had to be escorted.

Rob Porter got a bum rap. John Kelly likes the guy.
Abuse? It was an accident. There was no blackened eye.
Just ask Hope Hicks who followed suit. I’m sure that she would say
The two of them get on just fine if he just gets his way.

With Gary Cohn from Goldman-Sachs, you’d think he’d have it made,
But Donald dumped him when he when he wouldn’t play hardball on trade.
No tears were shed for Tillerson when his job went away.
Few State Department staffers liked the guy much anyway.

The FBI’s Andrew McCabe’s the next that I shall mention.
For he’s the one who got the axe one day before his pension.
He served the force for many years, and did so loyally,
But got the axe for being far to close with HRC.

Who’s next to join the roll call of departures and disasters?
The Vegas odds-on favorite is probably McMasters.
What does it take to stay on board?
Perhaps less skill than luck.
Remember who you’re working for,
Say “Yes” and learn to duck.


A billionaire named Robert Mercer
Thought Democracy couldn’t be worser.
Psychographic ad trains
To harvest our brains
And guide where our hand points the cursor.


From US vote manipulations,
To British nerve gas machinations,
Just as was expected
He got re-elected,
And Trump sends his congratulations.


With scandals and rifts by the scores,
And our debts mount like festering sores,
In his tweets yesterday,
All our leader could say
Is that “my data’s bigger than yours”.


With walrus ‘stache and sharply hawkish views,
John Bolton storms again the worldly stage.
And with his trademark diplomatic rage,
The risk that those who work for peace shall lose.

A style that even allies find abrasive,
A disregard for subtler conventions,
A passion for our global interventions.
Now watch us get increasingly invasive.

O Bully Trump, you’ve truly found a kindred
Who’ll serve as your Security Advisor,
As you embrace the stronger, not the wiser
To play the global predator, unhindered.

What sanity, what simple hope can linger
To mollify that itchy trigger finger.


Old White Guys are under attack!
We’ve got to take our Nation back!
We’re slipping in prominence
And losing our dominance
(But we won’t be shot while being Black.)

Stephon Clark – 1996 – 2018

The next generation’s called “Z”.
Yesterday, they spoke out on TV.
Articulate, couth.
The passion of youth.
I hope they do better than we.

Our Safety Net gets thinner by the day,
While cronies profit off our Public Lands,
And whistle-blowers now face reprimands.
This Quality of Life in sad decay.

The air we breathe, the water that we drink
In jeopardy to raise a Bottom Line
Still some devout praise all this as a sign.
How far, how far must this Great Nation sink.

So raise the debt. Spend billions on your wall,
And millions more upon your proud parade.
Then when it’s time to clean the mess you’ve made
Your grifter soul leaves not much left at all.

On Sunday, 60 Minutes made a fuss,
But did not say the one he screwed was US.



To lawyers, requests have been sent,
But for Trump, they will not represent.
I’ve heard of a place
Who will handle his case:

A new census soon is in store.
One question’s reception is poor.
If you check the wrong box,
Pull the shades, lock the locks,
‘Cause you might get a knock on the door.

David Shulkin, today goes the talk,
From the VA had to take a walk.
Then, Trump tweets the boast
He’ll be filling the post
With his own super-qualified Doc.

So sorry you feel slighted, Honey.
After so long, I’m sure it’s not funny.
Equal Work – Equal Pay.
I hear what you say.
But the guys will just lose too much money.


Two striking figures seen upon the news:
A fabled genius speaking through machines;
A raving leader prone to making scenes.
In terms of wisdom, which one do you choose.

A man defining physics from his chair –
Unhindered thought transcending limitation.
Or rants of stubby inarticulation
Expressed while tweeting in one’s underwear.

One warned us based on science calculations.
The other only cites the Sacred Oath
He made to those who run The Club For Growth,
Undoing work of past administrations.

How sad the smarter one was picked to leave.
The other has no reason to believe.

February, 2018

In this era of life run amok,
Comes an instance of horrible luck:
A Republican train
Caused one death and much pain
Ramming in to a white garbage truck.

Alleged surveillance abuses
In a memo has Dems blowing fuses.
The contents within,
Bring distortion and spin
And faint longing for pitchforks and nooses.

Was Nunes’ four pages a flop?
Does corruption go straight to the top?
Fear and doubt, not the least –
Was the Mark of the Beast
In the Dow’s 666ty point drop.

(Rounded up from -665.75)

A year ago or more, we said good-bye
And left in tears as our dear Sartaj closed
A simple loss. But more then most supposed.
Accepting still, so many reasons why.

Then, checking out this old but newer venue,
With ramp and bathroom ADA approved
As off to Sacramento our friends moved.
Good food, but not the Love once on the menu.

Just now, a new beginning, unexpected.
A local story, far from world events.
But what this simple moment represents:
A Joy that now too often’s unreflected.

What works transpired far beyond our ken.
On this Great Day, we did go Home again

Elon Musk, a genius with gall,
Selling flame throwers, sturdy and small.
They’re a gift you should bring
To who has everything,
But appreciates nothing at all.

What’s up with the Stock Market drama.
Four figures including a comma.
This precipitous tumble
Won’t make Donald humble.
He’ll just blame the drop on Obama.

Ups and downs of amazing amounts.
Give whiplash to investment accounts.
Causing brokers great pains.
Are these real gains,
Or just what’s called a Dead Cat Bounce.

He bragged of how much he got laid,
And the billions of bucks he’s been paid.
He tweets his rebukes
Loves walls and more nukes,
And now he wants a parade.

With an uptick in toxins and spillage,
Fossil fuels, greenhouse gasses and drillage,
Mr. Pruitt should say
That his new EPA
Is not for Protection, but Pillage.

What crazy thing did Donald do today?
You cannot miss the latest episode!
Or is your mind on Gossip Overload
While suf’ring from the pain of Truth Decay.

The narrow narrative that spins from our “free press” –
A strand that’s knitted by an unseen finger
So fear, despair and doubt are prone to linger
No wonder we buy pills for happiness.

Those at the top don’t bother to respect us.
Avoid their cults of personality.
Don’t feed their ego and their vanity
But focus on the issues that affect us.

To clever, simple memes we’re not indentured.
Dig deep and find the news that has been censored.

Rob Porter’s a pretty nice guy.
All that rumored abuse he’ll deny.
Treated ex-wives just swell, he
Got praise from John Kelly.
But he cannot explain that black eye.

Oh, the problems our planet must face
All the sickness and war’s a disgrace.
With our sad, starving millions,
Elon Musk spends his billions
On launching a Tesla in space.

So Congress is cutting the Net
Of Safety while running up debt.
There’s tax breaks for banks
And money for tanks
But good luck if you’re a disabled Vet.

In life, what ever your station,
Your color, your creed or your nation,
Get out there and play.
Let Le Bon Temps Roulé!
Have a fine Fat Tuesday Celebration!

A coincidence? Not so, I say,
Ash Wednesday and Valentine’s Day.
A symbolic rendition:
The Human Condition
Being drawn to both pray and to prey.

Too many in power have lied.
Too many parents have cried.
And now, one more time.
You don’t need my rhyme
To say too many children have died.

What drives a man to run towards a danger
And bravely leap into the line of fire,
A sacrifice in serving something higher
A Human Shield, there for friend or stranger.

While we debate our laws and social ills –
A luxury not there for those in grief.
Be still, and pray they someday find relief,
And leave the lobbyists to count the kills.

A day like any other. ‘Til it’s not.
The echoes, trapped forever in those halls
That sad eternal shadow where he falls.
Within us lives the lesson that he taught.

A stranger, yet I feel your family’s pain.
By Grace of God, he did not die in vain.

(Dedicated to Aaron Feis, Scott Beigel, Chris Hixon, and all the victims of the Stoneman Douglas High School shooting)

A number of friends are excited
That 13 Russian Trolls were indicted
For a new kind of scare –
Information Warfare.
Has the US itself ever tried it?

With facts and the truth on the line,
For reporters, it’s not a good sign
That in so many cases,
Responsible faces,
When asked for a comment, decline.

It’s Presidents’ Day! Forsooth!
So much change from our Voting Booth!
We’ve evolved from a guy
Who cannot tell a lie
To another who can’t tell the truth.

The Beatles, they sure were quite fun.
And Lennon was my favorite one.
But it’s hard to imagine
He wrote both Imagine
And Happiness is a Warm Gun.

So much firearm-based Invective.
But our view from home can be selective.
Though our concerns are noble,
These problems are global.
Check the Syrian mess for perspective.

The question “why can’t Johnny read?”
Has become “why must Johnny bleed?”
Forget Honor Rolls.
Bring on Armed Patrols.
The Gun Lobby knows what we need.

The days to go? One-thousand sixty-two
As we await the next inauguration.
In rhyme, it’s hard to put the situation.
These wars between, as well within, the Red and Blue.

Our Nation’s youth now march to stay alive
While Patriots dare clutch their weapons tighter
And root for ICE to keep our cities whiter.
Then, daily tweets to help our discord thrive.

The richest see “the makers” and “the takers”
And boldly move to skim more off the top.
Their history shows a greed that will not stop.
How many of our allies are just fakers.

Perhaps our woes are caused by Russian elves,
But still, such damage we do to ourselves.

I don’t write these rhymes as a lark.
They keep me from getting to dark.
But I shouted “hooray!”
When ’twas said yesterday
That the NRA’s jumped the shark.

President Nieto has built his own wall.
It did not have to be very tall
It just says “No way.
We can’t, and won’t pay.
And there’s no room for Donald at all.”

(w/ thanks to London Evans)

A show that is really a honey
Is on Netflix, and called Dirty Money.
If you think you can trust
Those who for power lust,
Meet Santa & the Easter Bunny.

Enough with the Russians, please.
They’re a target we’re hitting with ease.
In truth it would seem
The more scary regime,
The Ruler for Life, is Chinese.

At one store, a stunning new trick:
Among all the guns you can pick,
Theres no longer trifles
With assault-style rifles.
How nice to see Dick’s not a dick.

January, 2018


A toast to the First of the Year.
Hold the people who care for you dear.
Reach for the best,
Cope with the rest,
And try to choose love over fear.

This Holiday’s over. Get cracking.
Time to get back to chopping and stacking.
And drilling and spilling,
To make a big killing,
To mine without fining, and fracking.

Forty years, Orrin led from the Right.
Button-down. Very Utah. Uptight.
Issue-wise, him and me
Pretty much disagree.
But at least he was always polite.

So it’s high time for legalized pot.
Statewide, cannabis culture is hot.
Hate to spoil the fun.
It’s still Schedule One.
Light up? Jeffery Sessions says “Not.”

We will leave it to history’s jury
To review the book Fire and Fury.
After Steve Bannon’s blurb
Kicking Trump to the curb,
He sure changed his tune in a hurry.

When the Feds tell the press what to say,
Truth in black and white print turns to gray.
I read machinations
Of past administrations,
Then wonder what’s censored today.

This weekend’s Camp David retreat
A Republican brass Meet & Greet.
Job One on the docket –
Pick America’s pocket
While avoiding a midterm defeat.

It’s a night that you don’t want to miss,
Full of meaningful self-righteous bliss.
Celebrity causes.
Poignant pauses.
Hollywood gives its mirror a kiss

So he says now the Senate’s his goal.
His pardon exchanged for his soul.
I pity our fate
In his vision of “great”
Sheriff Joe, please go back in your hole.

To cure our American cancer
We may need a political dancer.
But for all our times burned
I hope that we’ve learned
That a rich TV star’s not the answer.

Both sides of the aisle today
Tossed more privacy safeguards away
I find it abhorrent
To spy with no warrant,
And be governed by the NSA.

In all today’s headlines we’ll find
That quote – cruel and racist, unkind,
About darker faces
In far-away places,
From that amazing shit-hole of a mind.

We were shocked by that quote yesterday.
“Shithole countries”. A sad thing to say.
T’was insulting. No doubt.
But have you read about
All the bombs that helped make them that way.

Those airless words a sickened fear instill
A frozen moment then a wash of dread
How many last good-byes were left unsaid
When forced to face that this is not a drill.

For thirty minutes, a lifetime set aflame
Until an errant button push, discovered.
Or by this did some covert act get covered
So hard to know just who or what to blame.

A false alarm but still on high alert.
As life unfolds in new and dreadful ways.
This cursed siren song defines our days
Subjecting innocents to needless hurt.

A tense relief that this was but a test.
Aloha, precious jewel that dots the west.

A porn star by name of Alana
Was invited to Donald’s cabana
But a paid non-disclosure
Covered up the exposure
Of this quick game of hide-the-banana.

Time for Bannon to go testify
For the Russia probe – who, when & why.
He’s alluded to treason,
And that might be the reason
That his old pal Bob Mercer said “bye.”

No word as to when it will start.
This ripping of families apart.
Be on alert, Guapo.
Here come the gestapo.
Our leader has ICE in his heart.

Pick a crisis. So many to choose.
Or maybe they’re all just a ruse.
I’m glad Donald’s found
Time for playing a round
And for giving awards for Fake News.

Both sides of the aisle are mopin’
Just accusin’ and blamin’. Emotin’.
They’re acting like asses
Over budget impasses.
Shut it down? Didn’t know it was open.

Could the Feds have gone beyond the pale
In abusing their right to surveil?
If there’s no problemo
Then release the memo.
Or perhaps just let Hannity rail.

One year is down, three to go.
All in all, it’s been quite a show.
So in celebration
They shut down the nation
Are we great yet? From what I see, no.

Our Government shutdown’s a mess.
One our President will not address.
It’s beg, borrow and steal.
Playing Let’s Make a Deal!
Vote for Monty Hall for Congress!

Politics is a tired old line.
Most folks could get along fine
If we sought a solution
For wealth distribution
Far beyond the world’s richest nine.

Larry Nassar had gone past betrayal.
Couldn’t watch as each girl told her tale.
He preyed like a vulture
In Gymnastic culture
I’m sure they’ll just love him in jail.

With all the new trends emergent,
A warning has now become urgent:
They’re cheap and they’re handy.
They look just like candy
But kids, please don’t eat the detergent.

At Davos, world leaders engage.
Talking commerce and climate and wage.
Our Prez, when he spake,
Dismissed fact as fake,
And was booed on this global stage.

Each day, the public court condemns with quickness
The predatory man in all his guises.
That power beyond conscience when it rises,
Where even women justify the sickness.

A greater ill to serve a greater good
A darker path toward distorted goals.
Entitlement to self-appointed roles,
To force the hand if just because one could.

Oh beauty, what dark force seeks to destroy you,
That must corrupt what it cannot create.
What tortured soul exists beneath that hate
That still, without permission, will enjoy you.

Hold fast against the will that seeks to part.
For therein lies the triumph of the heart.

Two rich guys named Harvey & Steve
Caused a bevy of women to grieve.
They’re big party donors
With insatiable boners.
There’s the door, guys. It’s time you should leave.

The Grammys™ salute best in song.
Where Divas and Punks get along.
Strutting Stars show their tricks,
Even talk Politics.
But this auto-tune thing is all wrong.

Tonight, hold on to your seats
As he brags of Remarkable Feats.
Though our Country’s a mess,
His loud, proud address
Will be given completely in Tweets.

Unfold the scroll of empty platitudes.
Parade the faces placed to illustrate
That twisted vision of our current state
White-out a year of damaged attitudes.

Then experts, highly paid, dissect the text
For hints of what he did and did not say.
Behind the scenes, what forces put in play.
We watch and wonder. Brace for what is next.

Two visions of our Now starkly diverge.
But still the truth remains, though quite obscure.
Like mushrooms, in the dark, and fed manure,
We will, perhaps, on voting day emerge.

Reject these simple narratives we’re fed.
For each of us to write our own instead.

December, 2017

There are tragedies both far and near.
How we fix them is seldom too clear.
Sometimes, I’m unnerved
By how justice is served.
Like that sad, senseless death on a pier.

I’m sorry that now I must say
That that damned tax bill passed yesterday.
So now we will pay,
And will pay, and will pay,
And will pay, and will pay, and will pay.

So far I have heard quite a lot
Of words on this Tax Bill we got.
Good news for our Nation’s
Big Corporations
But for We the People, not.

Common folk, Grassley said on the news,
Blow their pennies on wimmin & booze.
So the rich can invest,
Tax the poor, screw the rest.
Next election, I hope he will lose.

Oh Ancient Ones, we know not what we do.
What’s in three million acres – give or take –
We masters of what any God could make
Shall gift your infinite terrain to but the few.

In Utah’s vast expanse of perfect nothing,
We see no value to this nothing, still.
Just watch as we bend nothing to our will.
Yet some day too, our own creations – rusting.

This rocky battlefield, a monument to what.
Unspoken secrets permeate this earth.
This priceless nothing land of virgin birth.
Without a thought – a sacred tether cut.

Each day, another sad iniquity
Observe the shrinking of our own Antiquity.

That sad, eerie, grey-reddish glow.
A grab of belongings, and go.
A smoldering ember.
A windy December.
Oh yes, dear Ventura. We know.

Beyond our political views
And the spew from the pundits we choose
Inside, there’s a need…
A deep longing to read
Something vaguely akin to good news.

I can watch him with fear or with scorn.
I can ponder sad changes and mourn.
Sure, he says what he thinks.
That’s why I’m glad there’s shrinks
Who say it’s their Duty to Warn.

Finding ways, while laying in bed
To evict Donald Trump from my head.
Each day brings a flurry
Of new reasons to worry.
I’d rather go have fun instead.

He came to us with vows to make us Great.
Tapped well the motherload of discontent,
A heartland core that found him heaven sent
Dogwhistle codes legitimizing hate.

And now: DeVos – no fan of public schools.
Mulvaney, friend to predatory banks,
Our neighborhood policemen getting tanks,
And Twitterbots and trolls play us for fools.

A healthcare system poised for getting sicker,
While net neutrality hangs by a thread.
Combating climate change is nearly dead.
A tax to help the rich get richer, quicker.

I could go on, but won’t. You know the rest.
If this is “Great”, no wonder I’m depressed.

The hate that drives terrorist thirst
In New York, led a pipe bomb to burst.
This sad latest crisis?
I blame him – not Isis,
And it’s OK that he’s hurt the worst.

There are some who would say it’s a given
That, Christian, Roy Moore is forgiven.
Giving this man carte blanche
To just do what he wants.
Tell me. Please. On what world am I livin’?

…and finally a man has gone too far.
A confluence of disparate events
conspired well to lead a state to sense,
and dare to say “this is not what we are”.

All those just to the left of Judge Roy More
Perhaps tonight shall feel so slightly lighter,
That decency beat out a dirty fighter.
We know what we’re against. What are we for.

A moment of relief. What happens now,
for soon enough it’s their side’s turn to serve.
We’ve seen who Bannon thinks that we deserve.
What continues is what we will allow.

A president, in slight retreat, but grinning.
A populace so sick and tired of winning.

Some news of no little import,
On Brett Talley, I’m pleased to report:
Blacks and gays, he finds vile,
Never Lawyer’d a trial,
And he won’t judge a Federal Court.

A highly paid suit for Verizon
Made an FCC rule we’re despisin’.
Thanks to ol’ Chairman Pai,
Kiss Neutrality ‘bye,
A toll road seems on the horizon.

The CDC’s ban made me lurch.
C’mon. This is science, not church.
What facts will be hidden
Thanks to words now forbidden
In this time of faith-based research.

How vulnerable truth, when words deleted
By policies from the entitled few
Dictate to us what we can say and do.
Enforcing sameness. Diversity defeated.

In this, True Justice an aborted fetus
Stillborn Democracy – wrapped in a bleeding flag.
Each day, a slow and downward drag
With pages ripped from Orwell’s book to greet us.

Trans gender, class and race, across all lines
Reflections of a population shattered
While science-based research lies crumpled, tattered.

Whitewash away all words evidence-based.
What other values also get erased.

I think that it’s pretty clear why
The new tax bill should sail right by.
Congressional perks,
Graft, corruption, the works!
Just a slice? Hell, they get the whole pie!

So mark Matthew Peterson gone.
His lifetime appointment withdrawn.
Enjoy the amenity
Of Senator Kennedy
As he questions this poor clueless pawn.

Oh those naughty congressional elves.
Leaving fat lumps of coal on our shelves.
At the polls, let’s remember
The big gift this December
Was the tax break they gave to themselves.

I don’t want to dump on the chick
But her face always looks kinda sick.
I loathe taking ganders
At Huckabee Sanders.
She should star in some John Waters flick.

I can rhyme on the state of our nation
Til my head fills with painful sensation,
Or be glad I’m alive
Put the top down and drive
Up to beautiful ol’ Point Reyes Station.

A January day – hundreds arrested.
A theory of conspiracy submitted.
Six defendants. Innocent. Acquitted.
The limits of democracy get tested.

Assaulted, blinded in a pepper shower,
The crowd, in plastic, wrapped up and abused
All pleas from innocents within refused
The price for shouting painful truths to power

A jury says to organize is not a crime.
In greatness, still the right to mass dissent
Refuse, respond, resist. Do not repent.
But they’ll be ready. Stronger still next time.

Tonight though, special presents ‘neath the tree.
This Christmas Eve, J20 Six go free.

The first White House Christmas with Don.
All this bad naughtiness going on.
With his reindeer in flight
Santa swings by tonight
Leaves a big pile of (coal) and is gone.

Some hunker down to best avoid the season.
While others seek to party and enjoy
To gift or get the latest fancy toy.
Menorah, manger, tree – whatever reason.

I lie here visited by Christmas past,
By memories and faces, wondering how
To taste and best appreciate the now,
To make this present precious moment last.

Our life, our time together is our gift.
And yet so much complaint about the wrapping
And hours wasted arguing or napping.
Come down, sweet Santa – heal every rift.

Arise, and let your joy begin.
I wish you Peace – around you, and within.

T’was the day after Christmas and all through the house,
Not a word of “The Donald” from me or my spouse.
No mention of Congress, or taxes, or law
But to celebrate Boxing Day with my brother in-law.

In Virginia, two candidates sat
In a tie. Equal votes, tit for tat.
The results were refuted,
Countin’ ballots disputed
With the winner picked out of a hat

Roy Moore is an old Dirty Dancer.
An underage filly romancer.
From his own erections
To state-wide elections
He just won’t take “NO” for an answer.

I heard a most troubling fact
From how DNC data was tracked.
The speed of the transfer
Led some to the answer
That it was downloaded, not hacked.

Some have Presidential regrets.
Saying this is as bad as it gets.
One friend, yesterday,
Asked me, “what does it say
Of a White House that ain’t got no pets”.

Two-thousand seventeen is in the books,
A year that left us scarred by fire and flood
By crazy angry zealots out for blood
And governments of and by elected crooks.

So weary, wiser, join to say good-bye.
To kiss-off those events that split our nation,
The men who spawned the #metoo generation,
While raising markets to an all-time high.

A toast to those who seek and speak the truth.
Who bravely whistle-blow deep state corruptions.
Stay strong against the coming year’s eruptions.
We’ll meet again, beside the voting booth.
Another year. A trip around the sun.
I wish you peace & love, good health, and fun.