October, 2018

Of the money that Donald Trump had,
How much of it came from his dad
Through fake corporations
And sly tax evasions.
There are some who might say fraud is bad.


Oh Beer, thy crisp and ever golden hops,
Release me from the pressures of my studies
And lose me in indulgence with my buddies.
(A curse on he or she who called the cops.)

You give me courage as I bear my soul,
All sloppy, combative and belligerent.
Help me express these truths I really meant,
While clinging to the Court as highest goal.

How dare you hint that I was blacking out
When stature and rich privilege prohibits it.
Though more admit my past exhibits it,
God bless the shield of white male doubt.

I lie, perhaps. But still, just superficial.
Cannot you see my temperament Judicial?

In Ole’ Miss, “45” told his base
Blasey-Ford did not have a case.
That insensitive mocking
Even for him was shocking.
Those remarks were a classless disgrace.

He was young. He was drunk. He was jokin’.
And his life now is “totally broken”
Maybe so. The poor dear.
But we’d sure like to hear
From those folks, to the Feds, have not spoken.


Dear Senator, tonight I’m calling you
To ask, despite what you’ve been told
To challenge history and to break the mold.
To not confirm that man who loves his brew.

Our times, incendiary and divided
So desperately need a voice of reason.
His confrontation, rage suggesting treason,
The coarse attacks his “victim tears” incited.

This man is clearly from the Corp’rate State.
Deliver us a clear voice for the People.
Keep separate the Flag and Church’s steeple.
Don’t let brute force dictate our legal fate.

To claim your vote, some see a process rushed.
Who gains from valid testimony, hushed.


There are too many thoughts for these rhymes.
Heavy hearts. Action plans. Dreams of crimes.
Yes, that battle is through.
But what else is true.
My. These are in’tresting times.


Something happens not quite unexpected.
Red eyeballs stare addicted to the feed.
Heart sinks or rises based on what to read.
Another episode. For many, truth deflected.

I see a disillusionment around me.
A need to turn away, a vow to vote,
Another chance (or is that all she wrote).
As others, thoughts of “next” confound me.

But counter to the shout is not more shouting.
The note, the line, the sacred, blind intention
A space of peace to still the mind’s contention.
A fearless gesture made despite a doubting…

Resist the urge to become what you read.
What is your narrative beyond the feed.


A corrupt oligarchic elite
Jammed agendas through, using deceit.
But voters remember,
And come next November,
(a) They’ll all walk away in defeat.
(b) They’ll all get a boot in the seat
(c) They will just be a pile of dead meat
(d) Trick or Treat, they can come smell my feet.
(e) They’ll be peddling lobbyist teat.
(f) They’ll speak at an alt-right meet-&-greet.
(g) Their take-over won’t be complete.

Nikki Haley was put to the test.
Tho true, she was never the best.
Climate change, Human Rights,
Refugees. Global plights.
In her place soon will be Kanye West.


The right wing fake news pool insists
That a war on white men now exists.
But detainment and slaying
On rise might be saying
The Global War’s on Journalists.


The Media. The Democrats. George Soros.
The triangle of Liberal deception.
With any song they sing, beyond reception.
Paid activists and sheep provide the chorus.

Who needs the most these words above ring true.
The holders of the reins since reins’ inception
Who’ll take by force what lags through sheer deception.
The soulless force which seeks to but accrue.

A blissful ignorance at any cost.
The fearful cling to ever darking Oracle.
Ignoring inconvenient trends historical.
And in that fear, humanity is lost.

America, your pioneering spirit.
The gain. The loss. The choice to weep or cheer it.

In Georgia, to fight voter fraud,
Brian Kemp applied methods quite broad.
To eliminate doubt,
“Exact match” or you’re out!
Mostly Black folk affected. How odd.

An ever-intensified cycle
Resulted in Hurricane Michael.
Climate’s great demonstration
Of obliteration.
What say you, denial disciple?


What a cool way to give Dems a lift.
Those new registrations – a Gift.
How many new faces
Will fill polling places
Because of pop star Taylor Swift.

When he’s finished his President Run
And looks back on the things that were done,
The sum of it all –
Like he told Leslie Stahl
“Know what? Doesn’t matter. We won.”


A story I heard struck me funny.
And if it is true, it’s a honey.
In Microsoft tech,
What was called “SPAM Project”
Was short for “Spend Paul Allen’s Money”.

An interrogation that went wrong.
Or so goes that sad Saudi song.
No need to get real.
You’ll screw the arms deal.
Just go along to get along.


Goodbye to the suit Don McGhan
Who helped quite a bit with the plan
Of appointing judges
With right-leaning grudges
Stacking courts for the White Corp’rate Man.

In the Senate, that prune-faced old Mitch
Helped push through tax cuts for the rich.
The payoffs from where?
SSI. Medicare.
If you don’t vote, you’ve no right to bitch.


Of good news, we don’t have a lot.
Vote suppression. Democracy rot.
Saudi murder excuses.
Those “proud boys” abuses.
But in Canada, there’s now legal pot!


So many twists to how he met his fate,
Accepted, not to spoil the deals pending.
But each one still leads to the grisly ending:
His death inside the Saudi consulate.

New revelations bring forth lies and guesses
To justify our so-called allies’ acts
While money washes clean the bloody facts.
That sacred cleaner of unholy messes.

And he who lauds and loves despots and thugs
Sees how they handle journalist dissent,
Looks on in envy at this sad event,
(And billions versus Yemen lives), and shrugs.

To read and watch it’s hard to not turn numb,
Or justify this thing that we’ve become.


A Senator, name of Ted Cruz
Has allegiances that can confuse.
Trump insulted him bad,
Dissed his wife and his dad,
But is still an endorsement to use.

If from nuclear pacts he resigned,
What new deal does Trump think he’ll find.
Gorbachev sent rebukes
When Don said “yes” to nukes.
This is “not the work of a great mind”.

It’s sad when the average Joseph
Sees the climate become so corrosive.
You want to give up
When the phrase “Lock her up”
Turns into “Send her an explosive”.


At first they said he walked out quite unharmed.
Denying any mayhem there or trouble
But then admitting to a body double
When his poor wife-to-be became alarmed.

And then, word of a choke hold gone awry,
A fist fight that broke out by accident.
Rogue agents, on their own, with ill intent,
But still they did not mean for him to die.

And no, the Prince did not seek his rendition,
Or bone saws brought to an interrogation.
Besides, this stuff goes on in every nation –
Dissension death a long and proud tradition.

Okay. We did it. Now what will you do.
Premeditated, yes. But then, by who?

So they’ve now got a van and a name,
Bringing end to this pipe bomber’s game.
After one week of fear,
I’m anxious to hear
Of how George Soros is to blame.

Most mornings I check out the buzz
On her radio show, because
Amy Goodman is Wow!
But Democracy Now
Is more like Democracy Was.


America, this road to being great
Is taking us to interesting places.
A landscape filled with fists and angry faces,
Of flaming words and deftly nurtured hate.

These targets, Democrats and Blacks and Jews
Denounced by pundit and from bully pulpit,
And coded phrases from that Orange Culprit.
Conspiracies that drive a man to choose

To take up arms. Build bombs. To start a war.
Some twisted view of purity as goal,
To justify a rotting of the soul,
Returning to a never-was Before.

These bloody acts of our collective fall.
No false flag here. There is no flag at all.

Each day there is troubling news
From about any angle you choose.
But I get a big grin
When I read “Red Sox Win!”
Even more when I read “Dodgers Lose!”


This is the Greatest Story Being Told
Each moment brings a chapter to unfold
But who amongst us gets to do the telling.
A bloody narrative, with too much yelling.

The twisted faces. Wild gesticulating.
Look closely. See – It’s Death they’re celebrating.
And in return, beyond Resistance strife,
Make time each day for celebrating Life.

Beware the ones who’d suck away your joy
Through each destructive tool in their employ,
Out of allegiance to some force above.
Just stand your ground, and dare to fiercely love.

These madding times, a weight of rage and fear.
Reflect and ask, “what else is true, my Dear.”

Eleven times Eleven
And then Eleven still
And so the matrix of a loss
That stems from one man’s ill.

September, 2018


As the wheel of life takes its toll,
In its path, you will rock, you will roll.
Give and get some R – E
S – P – E – C – T,
So decrees the late, great Queen of Soul.


A politics pretending brave and tough,
Yet at its core is sadly born in fear
Lets phony controversies fill the sphere.
Now, rise above, and finally say enough.

For some things transcend party or ambition,
And lie beyond the money, fame, & power,
Allowing more abiding truths to flower
As counter to who prey without contrition.

So says the man who held this space before,
The Kenyan socialist who took our guns,
(How far the change to one who tweets and runs)
As eulogy to one who gave far more.

A funeral. A place to speak the truth.
As well as is November’s voting booth.


Though his daughter is tragically gone,
Through her death, she will not be a pawn.
Let the politics cease.
Let her soul be at peace.
Let the mem’ry of Molly shine on.


Jeffery Sessions did not get the memo.
Sniffing out Our Guys is a problemo.
Open these cans of worms
Just before the midterms
And the voters might flip and go Demo.


The battle for Kavanaugh rages.
The outcome is one for the sages.
But why would one spurn
Those who move to adjourn
To read 42,000 new pages.


The list of the suspects is growin’
Yet nary among us is knowin’
The leaker’s true name
But I’ll lay the blame
At the feet of Sasha Baron Cohen.

This drama playing out in real time
In daily unexpected episodes
Inflammatory words and secret codes
Is this an entertainment or a crime.

A scathing book. An unsigned op-ed treason.
A hearing where we’re told the fix is in.
Evasive answers cloak unspoken sin.
A President beyond both rhyme and reason.

As accusations fly, so does denial.
As those who seek the truth are truly vexed,
Refresh the screen to see what happens next.
This age of our Democracy on trial.

A gift to all the protest votes for him
Who has no guiding force but petty whim.


Shift over. Go home and to bed.
But enter the wrong home instead.
Encounter a stranger.
Draw gun, sensing danger,
And now, Botham Shen Jean is dead.


You have to clap and smile and play along.
You have to stand there acting quite enthused.
Don’t disagree or look like you’re confused
By grimacing at facts that he got wrong.

Through your responses, don’t reflect the schism,
Or to his points, be mouthing words of doubt.
Above all, at his shoulder, don’t take out
Your pin for Democratic Socialism.

Wave signs, wear hats and play the little game
Get on TV and act both loud and proud,
Part of the Billings manufactured crowd
Or just like that, you’ll soon be out of frame.

O Plaid Shirt Guy, your fame may not have traction,
But thank you for your humorous distraction.


A handsome young Dash & Dine scammer
Had to stop when cops laid down the hammer.
Now, for leaving his dates
With “Balance Due” fates,
He’ll be eating for free in the slammer.


Twelve years ago, Brett Kavanaugh did stand,
In Senate hearings where some say he lied:
The memos that young aide Miranda pried,
He claimed on oath, had never graced his hand.

Contrary to some emails received,
Including one with subtle header “spying”.
Why might one privy to these think he’s lying.
How could he be confirmed by those deceived.

Is perjury now dwarfed by politics?
Or is this charming girls’ basketball coach,
This Federalist darling, past reproach.
The Ruling Class has spoken by its tricks.

Some say before a High Court vote is reached,
For misconduct, this judge should be impeached.

In the southeast, denial was key
To not planning for fast-rising sea.
So now here comes Florence,
With water in torrents,
And poor coastal dwellers must flee.


“The Maria death toll is a lie.
3,000 people did not die.
My response to that mess
Was tremendous success!”
I! I! I! I! I! I! I! I! I!


In High School, what did young Brett do
To rate him a hashtag “MeToo”.
Will this old accusation
Delay confirmation
Or will they just let him skate through.


What secrets now, what juicy truths be told
By this spectacular capitulation.
What names will surface through cooperation.
From pressure causing Manafort to fold.

O songbird see this court as your grand stage.
Sing every tune those Feds might be requesting
Sweet melodies of others, so arresting,
To limit time you might spend in your cage.

From Russian op’ratives to grifter sleaze
This campaign made each deal it could get.
No wonder his foul swamp is not drained yet,
For when you lie with dogs, you rise with fleas.

How many here were crimin’ly intentioned.
How soon will we see RICO statutes mentioned.


Heavy wind from Florence still howls.
Much destruction. The flood water fouls.
Pouring rain, rising tide.
Too many have died.
Where’s our leader with more paper towels?


And now, a name. A painful silence broken.
A secret kept for over 30 years
Reveal’d despite a valid list of fears.
What blowback comes for her having so spoken.

And what about that list of sixty-five.
Perhaps their mem’ries mean we view him leniently.
But still, their words come quickly and conveniently.
Who’s hand and efforts helped them to arrive.

He, drunk and horny, physically restrained
A girl, forcing his preppy privilege.
But they were kids. Is this still sacrilege?
Oh yes. Her pain of memory remained.

How many times has this played out in history
Where men are judge and jury over her story.


From his nauseous smirk of a smile,
To his sneering attack-doggie style,
His life is a lie
Only money can buy.
Don Junior comes off as quite vile.


In simpler times, some things were left unsaid.
And noble souls took secrets to their graves.
But now, dark revelations come in waves
Exposing truths perhaps best left in bed.

In simpler times, some things were best unseen
For once exposed, they cannot be erased
But leave us all a little more debased.
But that was then. Our now, so coarse and mean,

To capture headlines and to sell more books
To top the list of what is viral trending –
A bottom-feeding race that’s never ending.
It’s hard to tell the heroes from the crooks.

How sad one’s mind’s eye can no longer part
From “a dick like the mushroom in Mario Kart”.


“This water is wet”, says our boss,
To a couple whom Florence did toss.
Their insurance co. rolled them.
“Have a good time”, he told them,
This man without sense for their loss.

Those “stand your ground” laws are in fash’,
Tho’ some folks responses are rash.
In the news we have seen
Down in ol’ Abilene,
A man shot and killed over trash.

Hey, Grassley & Comp’ny ain’t fools.
To them, law and process are tools.
Shower doubt and insults,
Make up the results,
Right before they hand you all the rules.

The nightmare from Florence still grows.
In the water, coal ash overflows.
Countless gallons of poo,
Massive livestock death, too.
Caused by climate change? Yeah, well who knows.

In the news, there’s more bads than goods.
All surrounded by shouldn’ts and shoulds.
But back on the green
It’s good to have seen
That Tiger is out of the woods.


Our news today reflects One Life to Live.
Soap Opera accusation and denial,
Abused, abusive pasts on public trial.
But still – is this the best we have to give.

What tariffs do uncovered truths impose
Upon the trade of daily interactions.
Must every past split present into factions.
Must all men bear what every woman knows.

There are some wounds that time cannot absolve.
The ageless crush of drunken male ego
Is seen and felt it seems wherever we go.
But now together, and as one, evolve.

As old as life, this sweet eternal dance.
‘Til time is right tho, keep it in your pants.

“In our two years, we’ve done more. So true.”
Said Donald to the U.N. Crew.
Those career diplomats
Do not wear MAGA hats.
Yes Donald, they’re laughing at you.

Oh Christine, this is hard to listen to.
In real time, what you are going through.
You speak for many who have been there too.
How could those present all not believe you.


A mix of anger, tears, and church and beer
As Kavanaugh, defiant, plays the victim.
While shouting down who dares to contradict him,
Denying every act that brought us here.

For there’s too much at stake for him to lose.
He is the great return on their investments,
Lifetime deciding vote in Supreme Vestments
On Corp’rate rule and woman’s right to chose.

But if he’s now whom old friends claim to know,
And if by vote, he’ll soon assume his place,
His rude evasions still cannot erase
What happened in that room so long ago.

I’ve listened, wanting to be fair, and tried,
But cannot shake believing that he lied.

So with only a week to invest,
Let the Bureau do what it does best.
Perhaps they can budge
The mind of Mark Judge,
And find out who’s mem’ry’s repressed.

Past the infinite sea of MeToo,
Our Congress had much more to do.
Their tax cuts beget
Three trillion in debt,
Also giving our future the screw.

August, 2018

You’d best be a ducker and sprinter
For it might be a bloody long winter.
You can get yourself killed
Since now folks can build
A gun from a 3-D printer.


That he wants the probe stopped’s not surprising.
For he has things to hide, we’re surmising.
Though there may be confusion
Over what is collusion,
In the meantime, sea levels are rising.


Each day, from our future we borrow.
On a path that may well end in sorrow.
Trump’s emission solution
Just adds to pollution.
Breathe now like there is no tomorrow.


As a player, I’m not LeBron’s fan.
Still, I have much respect for the man.
His passion is burning.
Gives money for learning.
Just throw Donald’s tweets in the can.

My son and the Reds have not spoken.
If they did, then no laws were broken.
And I didn’t know.
And if I did, so?
Jeff Sessions, tell Mueller to stop pokin’.


And finally, there was collusion there.
He says this after 40 times denial.
So what does all this mean for Mueller’s trial.
(In other news, how many lack health care.)

And lawyer Michael Avenetti’s ire!
He wants to duke it out with Fox’s Hannity.
About the Stormy D payout insanity!
(In other news, our planet is on fire.)

And how we love to hear the snowflakes bitch
On each and every presidential action,
The Lib’rals weep while midnight tweets get traction.
(In other news, those tax breaks for the rich…)

All day, all night, Trump headlines get the best of us,
Ignoring all the things that plague the rest of us.


For his paranoid spewings of hate,
Alex Jones got the boot, and that’s great.
iTunes and Spotify
Kissed his podcasts goodbye,
And for this, we thank The Deepstate.

Embezzlement. Cooking the books.
My God, what a damn bunch of crooks.
Just a slight bit of sweat
In that ostrich jac-ket’.
Let’s see how your prison suit looks.

So Brock Turner, convicted but barely,
Dared to claim he got tried unfairly.
But the judges, in force,
Ruled out his “outercourse”
And upheld the sentencing, squarely.

A statement made, perhaps a gauntlet thrown.
For those who say that systemic oppression
Thrives in a space of human rights repression
A hatred born in fear of the not known,

Tweet-fueled by one who’s borderline psychotic.
Just throw the ball you whining piss-and-moaners.
But isn’t it the class we know as “owners”
Who really stoop to sins unpatriotic.

Hey Whitey, hear just what is being said
When own’ed ones dare raise a fist and kneel
And in that moment, take a breath to feel
Grandfathers brought in chains and left for dead.

No disrespect to the Red White & Blue.
The Red stands for the Red of our blood too.

Monsanto says RoundUp don’t kill.
And has “evidence” “proving”, but still,
I’d rather have health
Than die with the wealth
Of that 289 mil.

In Charlottesville, people felt slighted.
Recall how their torches ignited,
Expressing their fears.
But for hundreds of years,
The Right has already united.

From slavery to pure genocide,
And the guilty who never got tried,
Failed treaties and borders.
Just following orders.
Go forward or backward. Decide.

Do words exist that ‘ere should not be said,
And who is there to forcibly prohibit them.
Then what is lost, should we no more exhibit them
Or would they but explode inside our head.

And what is truly served when they are uttered,
In instant global reach, inciting hate.
No more with tact or prudence must we wait.
And now in flames hear truth and discourse guttered.

But what of those upon the hearing end.
So sweet to dream the dreams of sheltered ears.
Or are we stronger listening to our fears.
A rended fabric needs both sides to mend.

Beyond the fog of what was thought was meant.
May we be judged upon our true intent.

Omarosa’s new book is a teller!
Says her ex-boss is a racist feller!
She’s just playing the game,
Grasping seconds of fame,
Saying anything for a best-seller.

From Pennsylvania comes a sad confession
To cause a true believer much dismayal
Revealing generations of betrayal
The dark side of Apostolic succession.

One thousand victims seeking ministrations,
Statistics on an index of abuse
The courage to come forth, but what’s the use.
A scar transcending statute limitations.

Oh Mother Church, your Bishops hiding Bishops
A cloak to cover up sins of the Father
For years you wonder why the wounded bother
When cries for help fall deaf on higher ups.

With power to keep reputations varnished,
How many souls leave faith brutally tarnished.


No surprise to a person who knows him.
Going after the ones who oppose him
Is but par for the course.
Is there voter remorse?
Where’s the folks with the stuff to depose him.

So many of them come home ill
After serving our country, but still
Our vets get ignored
So Trump can afford
A parade that costs 92 mil.


In Georgia, there’s some polling places
That serve mostly folks with black faces.
Those booths will now close.
Could one fairly suppose
This concerns Voting Rights for the races?

When governments that stand as Democratic
Must face the bitter now that’s economic,
Then Global Trade’s the real Bomb Atomic
Decisions made by those more autocratic.

And standing oddly silent on the side
Look on and see one million disappear
Can one not bear to ask who’s next to fear
The quick and guaranteed efficient ride.

Retraining schools enforcing strict obedience
A learning curve for those to work as slaves
But what flag has the courage to make waves
In light of commerce needing our expedience.

And so amidst our own crisis and scandal,
Another truth so many cannot handle.

From his staff, he wants loyal adherence.
From his critics, he hates interference.
And what matters greatly?
What you’ve done for him lately.
(Or you’ll lose your Security Clearance.)

From Rudy’s evasions and lies,
To the EPA clouding our skies,
To immigrant cages,
To midnight tweet rages,
It’s just too much. Doctor, my eyes…


Within an hour, the juried peers had spoken.
Two men found guilty of 8 counts apiece.
Paul Manafort in his fine ostritch fleece,
And Michael Cohen, the lawyer-fixer, broken.

For lying’s simply not “Alternate Truth”,
And still there is a price to pay for fraud,
‘een if one’s blessed by Russia and by God.
Remember, come November’s voting booth.

Hush money paid to silence talk of quickies.
What other charges might Mueller be bringing
Should deals made bring up more songs for singing.
(what is it about Presidential dickies?)

Today for once, the Left side is all smiles.
But what will be revealed in future trials.

A current High Court nominee
Plainly said that a Prez should be free
From being indicted,
Which made Trump excited
And he said “Here’s the Judge for me!!”

I don’t mean to get all polemic,
But Gummint corruption’s endemic.
The grifters and phonies.
The favors to cronies.
Why, immunity seems epidemic!

And now an immunized and leaking Pecker,
Profess’ed master of the “catch-and-kill”,
A man who bent a paper to his will,
Revealed to be a journalistic wrecker.

In serving the best interest of a friend,
Suppressing damning gossip tabloid glee.
This disappearing act not played for free,
It’s payoff but a presidential end.

How could these players make our country great?
Who’s only love is asset liquidation
A fire-sale sell off of our nation
And four of ten still cheering on this fate.

With eight-hundred and eighty days to go,
Is one more tired or sickened of this show.


At peace, his final battle now has ended,
A man of courage, principle, and wit,
Admittedly, a flawed, imperfect fit,
But on both sides, respected and befriended.

A humble sense of serving something greater,
Unlike his punchline of a running-mate,
Or many in our government of late,
Who but to self and special interests cater.

In those who may not see this man a Hero,
A link to our humanity is lacking.
As witness to our great foundations cracking,
He spoke truth to our coward Orange Nero.

Let those among us who for honor thirst
Lament this man who put our Country first.



Neil Simon


But still we wish

He wasnt




A tradition this seems to becoming,
(Though it looks like The Donald’s not bumming)
Still, it looks like McCain,
Like Babs Bush, made it plain:
“It’s my funeral. Thanks for not coming.”

With the Christian Right, Donald Trump met,
And he told them “you guys better get
All the White folks you can
To vote Re-Pub-Li-Can,
Or the Negroes will get you, you bet!”


To keep children safe in our schools,
Our teachers must have proper tools.
Using Federal funds
For purchasing guns?
Great idea! That Betsy DeVos rules!



A quarterback dares kneel in his prime.
And sidelined by white owners, an example.
Speak truth and find your punishment is ample.
A stunning act for this “post-racial” time.

But can these claims meet some burden of proof.
Was subtext clearly, “Boy stay in your lane”.
While player-felons feel far less pain,
Did his glass ceiling hit a steel roof.

No disrespect but still to make a claim:
The Dream is more a Nightmare for too many
Where few get most and others, hardly any
There on the streets, where race is not a game.

In kneeling then, a man is standing tall,
And kicks off a political football.

July, 2018

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


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


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


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

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


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

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

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

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


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

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

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

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


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


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


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


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


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


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

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

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

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


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

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

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

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


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


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


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


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

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

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

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


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

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

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

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

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


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


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

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

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

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


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

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

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

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


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



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

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

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

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


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


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


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

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


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

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

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

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



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

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

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

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

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.