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.

November, 2017

Chief of Staff John Kelly has shown
From the lessons of his’try, we’ve grown.
For to him, fair and wise
Would reach compromise
On how much of a man one could own.

The World Series wrapped up yesterday.
Great games! Great excitement! Great play!
Sincere congratulation
To the the best in the nation,
What ever team just BEAT LA.

Revelations from Donna Brazile
Say the Primary was rigged for Hil,
And the Clinton Campaign
Bought their DNC reign.
Which all may not be crimes, but still…

Let go of the past? Yes. We should.
For it’s here in the now, that we could
See and then act
Against those who detract
From the things that serve our Common Good.

Despite all their billions invested,
It looks like some powers have crested.
A Saudi eruption
Cracks down on corruption,
And dozens of Princes, arrested

Over 60 of our Navy’s Brass,
Plied with booze, favors, parties and ass.
While one man made killings
In contract over-billings
But it’s all for Defense. So: Pass.

– with apologies to Robert Louis Stevenson –

How would you like to get shot in a church,
With your mother or daughter or spouse.
There are some who would say it’s a fortunate thing
Because you’re in Jesus’ house.

How nice to be killed by a guy who is white –
A soul who’s just mad and depressed –
Expressing America’s right to bear arms,
Instead of some brown terrorist.

We drag out the same tired script once again
To the next shattered city or town
And then in a flash, bullets flying again.
Up in the air.
And down.

I deeply and sadly remember
How I felt on this day, last November.
But now, happy faces.
Because of the races
Won by the Donkey contender.

There’s rumors of documents, sealed.
Within them what truths get revealed?
Such bloody excitements
For high-level indictments.
I listen, and keep my eyes peeled.

In his 30’s, we hear that Roy Moore
With a 14-year old tried to score.
If a man wants a date
In the South, he don’t wait.
So please tell me – what’s the uproar?

I cannot have you – you are not mine to have
But still I use your hand to touch my crotch
The things that I will do and make you watch
Then in this potted plant release my salve.

How can I do what you would not allow
Where does it say that this is how it works.
Why did I get the penis and the perks
When did you say the time for change is now.

Where in this phrase does my “I’m sorry” live.
For what’s been done, or just that I got caught,
Since finally no more silence could be bought.
And could you ever get to “I forgive”.

Beyond the urge, beyond the ducking blame,
May I live long enough to know my shame.

An Alabam’ lawyer named Brett,
A blogger and NRA pet.
Not a case has he tried.
Rated “unqualified”
Thanks to Trump, that’s the justice we get.

Doubts his country’s intel more than Vlad.
Likes to think not all Nazis are bad.
Says Duterte’s a pip,
Loved his China golf trip.
What a fine judge of character. Sad.

If protecting the environment’s the goal,
And patching up the ozone hole,
Slashing carbon emission
Is a right noble mission.
There ain’t no such thing as “clean coal”.

For peace and for joy I keep rooting.
But to sadness and doubt I keep scooting.
How bitter bile tastes
When Trump cuts and pastes
His regrets for another school shooting.

I think too much wealth is obscene.
And pursuit of it can turn one mean.
The Free Press will fail
When the truth is for sale –
Like the Kochs buying Time Magazine.

The one-thousand one-hundred and sixtieth day –
A trophy suitable for hanging on the wall
Just take the tusks, and leave ’em where they fall.
A snapshot smile where justice, bleeding, lay

next to the pipeline – 5,000 barrels leaking
crude into the sacred healing waters.
A gift to our Dakota sons and daughters
Byproducts of the profits some are seeking

with tax bills crafted well behind closed doors,
So no one knows for sure what lies within
Except that One-Percent will surely win,
And those who profit as we gird for war.

And for dessert, Al Franken cops a feel.
Each day it seems – a little more surreal.

Each day, there’s a brand new accuser
Calling out one more sad groping loser.
Truly shocking to see.
But the worst one for me?
Scott Pruitt, Mother Earth’s great abuser.

The Mafia Don “Toto” is done.
A bloody 87-year run.
With few repentances,
Got 26 life sentences,
But still only had to serve one.

I reflect on the hearts that have bled.
Frozen eyes. Twisted cross on his head.
The lives that were wasted,
The fear that was tasted,
And rejoice: Charles Manson is dead.

Thanks to actions all lewd, crude and rude,
Other headlines are getting subdued –
Bad judges get vested,
Reporters arrested,
And middle class taxpayers, screwed.

He fondled her from where he sat.
Just a child. More than once. Just like that.
Removed twice from the bench.
He’s corruption’s own stench.
But he still ain’t no damned Democrat.

To bask in the colors of Fall
With a nod to life’s joys, great and small.
Set aside matters hateful,
Embracing the grateful
With a Happy Thanksgiving to all.

It’s Black Friday today so go buy!
The chances for bargains are high
But whatever you steal
Won’t be like the deal
That Flynn wants from the FBI.

Today, reflections on a pile of rhymes.
Since March, two-hundred fifty more or less.
Each day a brief perspective on this mess –
A chronicle of “interesting times”

The sad parade of cabinet appointments
Between the killing storms and storming killers,
And those who only seek to rock the pillars
Bestowing new and heartless disappointments.

But taken as a whole, this blinding whirl,
Our whiplash tour from stage to stage to stage
Serves many different flavors of outrage,
And yet more ways to say “hey look – a squirrel”.

How often are responses manufactured
By those who wish to see the masses fractured.

Treat The Net like a Public Utility!
Large and small deserve equal agility!
So I wrote Chairman Pai.
Said “Don’t sell us out, guy!”
You should too, perhaps not in futility.

Though for now, the pages won’t show it,
The reporters and writers all know it.
Half a billion in cash
From the Koch brothers stash,
Spells the end of TIME (mag) as we know it.

Who’s running the CFPB?
I hope not the Trump appointee.
Protect the consumer?
No he won’t. That’s the rumor.
Bad news, this Mick Mulvaney.

Among all our elites, there’s no savior.
Far too many act boorish and knave-ier
Flawed Heroes. It’s tough.
But I’ve had quite enough
Inappropriate sexual behavior.

Those Korean tests are quite foreboding.
“Rocket Man”‘s seeking nuclear loading.
The risk of our nation
Glowing from radiation
Is not helped by Trump’s twitterfest goading.

October, 2017

Don’t you kneel, you black football player!
You’re just lazy, you brown San Juan Mayor!
I tweet these, of course,
As I stroll my golf course.
It just sucks that life is not fai-r.

Of the new gun bill I am somewhat wary.
Good for silencers and concealed carry.
Bars, churches and schools!
Angry drunks, jerks and fools!
Why does Liberty have to be scary.

Yesterday, a new friend said she’d choose
Not to download or read any news.
I don’t want to sound sappy,
But she seemed so damned happy.
How I wish I could walk in her shoes.

Again. And on the heels of more disaster.
The words the next breath brings we’ve heard before,
The useless thoughts and prayers and tears, and more
Debate, but coming at us colder, harder, faster.

And just beneath, the posts of darker whys:
False flag brigades, deep state satanic sources
Attached to theories Alex Jones endorses.
Still, for each bullet another mother cries.

On top of this, the 700 Club
Says Vegas is the price for disrespect.
Pat Robertson. What else would you expect.
That some believe this. Therein lies the rub.

On top of that, what bad new laws were born
In Congress, while the rest took time to mourn.

There’s no water or power or supper.
Scant relief from some rusty old scupper.
No one knows what to do
‘til our Hero comes through
Bearing Brawny, the Quicker Picker-Upper™.

As we’re jolted from crisis to crisis,
And debate all the Bad Karma prices,
I felt my heart sink
When I came to a link
That the CIA founded ISIS.

Thanks to blind faith and studies proved shoddy,
Our government’s now playing god-dy.
These men have decided
What can be provided.
Politicizing the female body.

The US court system is great!
All of Trumps judge appointments first rate!
After years of stonewalling,
Foot dragging and stalling,
You’ll do fine if you’re rich, white and straight.

So what kind of stunt would you call
Pence’s walk-out on Niner football.
The sideline genuflect
Only throws disrespect.
At our sad lack of justice for all.

You can argue about things elective.
Go on Facebook and hurl invective.
Finger point, and lay blame,
Until acres of flame
Come, and put things in proper perspective.

All this talk of unwanted advances.
These are rapes and assaults, not romances.
What inside us could say
That this shit is ok.
Be polite, and just leave on your pants-es.

So in the air, the ash of what once stood.
I breathe the dust of things that now are gone.
I have no rhymes today. They do no good.
I pray you find the strength to carry on.

An overloaded matrix of disaster.
At loss to figure what to say or do.
As Jung once wisely said, “not out, but through”
But how, when each betrayal happens faster.

How hard to let one’s heart serve as one’s guide
With those around you pushing towards the fight,
In proud confusion, seeing dark as light.
Make haste to push against this bleeding tide.

While at the top, the greedy choice in fashion:
Take all you can. Be fearless. Screw the rest.
All but the Number Ones are losers in this test.
No. Help me always move toward compassion.

And if then I must go down with the ship,
The Love Boat’s where I choose to make the trip.

Oh Donald, that Jolly Old Elf.
Puts compassion far back on the shelf.
If Congress won’t dare
Kill Affordable Care,
He damned well will do it himself.

While NewsGossip offers distraction,
His horridly flawed plans gain traction.
Says he hates those around him.
In the bathroom they found him
Tweeting out his smug self-satisfaction.

I’ll admit that I’ve oft been a fan
Of the work of Nancy and Dianne
But the health of our nation
Needs a new generation
Because “more of the same”‘s not the plan.

I’ve advanced in the spirit of play,
Though I’ve stopped when I’ve heard someone say
“No, I’ve had quite enough”.
Being female’s tough.
I’ve read too many “me too’s” today.

So you spent middle age in repose
Till one day something strange hit your nose.
Then you pondered the range
Of the things that could change
As you stood on your roof with a hose.

I am troubled that it’s been detected
That kickbacks and bribes were suspected
For America’s store
Of uranium ore
Long before 45 got elected.

The safety net cuts are extensive.
The kleptocracy’s reach is extensive.
Get with it you guys.
You must realize
That empathy’s too damned expensive.

At the DNC, progressives were slighted,
While the lobbyist pros were invited.
Superdelegates stacked
With corporate hacks.
What a party! And we’re not invited.

The battles between Red and Blue.
Causing damage so hard to undo.
While sinister forces
Are plotting their courses
Towards Civil War or a Coup.

So many facts lie beyond reach.
Some day, what will history teach?
From election meddling,
To influence peddling,
To who pays half-a-mil for s speech.

The Trump and Bob Corker Tweet Duel
Is a fire, with both adding fuel.
“Debasing”, “unstable”,
“Dangerous” and “unable”
Too late, Bob. But still – kinda cool.

With Jeff Flake’s announcement last night,
He and Corker chose quit over fight.
Trump is far from annoyed –
Happy to fill the void
With Steve Bannon’s Angry New Right.

One-thousand, one hundred and eighty-two
Days until the next inauguration.
Each one a slightly downward calibration,
And “greatness” in retreat for but a few.

With shallow focus – symbols, shams and slights
Obscure our 3-card Monte economics,
Still seeking truths from late night network comics,
While sell-outs legislate away our rights.

My lovely wife will sigh and say “how bleak”.
But just above the politics of rage,
That sacred space where we can still engage
Where those who harbor hope can dare to speak.

Beyond the endless ever-breaking news,
Fear or Joy – it’s up to you to choose.

This decision jars me to my core.
I know what the FCC stood for.
Thanks a heap, Chairman Pai –
You sold us out, guy.
The Public’s airwaves? Hah. No more.

So what do these documents say
Of the FBI and CIA.
A dark piece of history
Still, eclipsed by the mystery
Of what they are up to today.

Want politics? Please change the station.
This Sunday my mind’s on vacation.
Relaxing is tough.
I’ll be back soon enough
With more rhymes on what’s plaguing our nation.

Few would say that our government’s healthy.
Dirty deals – both up-front and stealth-y.
They won’t teach or cure ya,
But still reassure ya
What ya need are tax cuts for the wealthy.

We’ve such a Haunted House this Halloween.
Each room presents a new and dark excitement
Who’s next to feel the horror of indictment.
Or scream as dredged up scandals make the scene.

The monsters here? Abusive predators.
And climate-changing billionaire polluters
Look out! Here comes the lone-nut Active Shooters!
Amidst the groans of Zombie Senators.

Those aren’t ghosts parading in those sheets.
The fires they carry ain’t for toasting s’mores.
Still, at the top, in our White House of Horrors
The Great Pumpkin doles out his Trick-or-Tweets.

Why must reality be so full of fright.
I hope you all have silly fun tonight.


September, 2017


In a limerick, one can’t get long-winded
But our leader wants DACA rescinded.
Hatch and Ryan say “No!
Don’t make those kids go!”,
Harming innocent lives if it ended.


An insanity of our sad time
Is the topic of this little rhyme.
I’m sad to report
Fairooz back in court
Because Sessions thinks laughter’s a crime.


Kim Jong Un is not a Trump pal.
Fight a duel? Yes. Maybe they shall.
To a Morricone tune,
They should meet at High Noon,
And blow up the O.K. Corral.


One-thousand two hundred and thirty-four
Days until the next inauguration.
We celebrate this Labor Day vacation.
Acknowledge bloody struggles of before.

As bosses squeeze us, wanting more for less,
And lobby for the sham of “right to work”
Consolidating power with a smirk.
Our Unity comes under more duress.

The history? Busting unions, busting heads.
The Reagan era trashing of our Cause.
The gutting of our whistle-blowing laws.
The CEOs so cozy with the Feds.

In solidarity we must keep up the fight.
Oh, Workers of the World – Unite!


The Perfect Party.
A great To-Do
‘Cause no one mentioned


A new book out from HRC
Looks at losing the presidency.
How could it be clearer.
The “why”s in the mirror,
(Plus that Vast Right-Wing Conspiracy).

From the Caribbean up to Key West
Record winds put lives to the test.
Now Hurricane Irma
Levels the Terra Firma.
Mother Nature, please. Give it a rest.

In her Thursday speech, Betsy DeVos
Made abuse victim advocates cross.
Why do chicks need protections?
Hey, dudes get erections.
Guess she showed all those whiners who’s boss!

The huge Equifax data breach
Put the secrets of millions in reach.
But before we got told,
The bosses’ stock sold.
Someone please rinse their souls out with bleach.

Deserted streets wait for the hellish deluge.
As bands of red highlight an exodus.
No gas, no food, no mercy from the crush,
As seven million people seek their refuge.

Oh “awesome”, how sadly overused a word you are.
A drink, a song, a day, so overpraised.
Behold the awesomeness of islands razed.
This awesome former life. This awesome scar.

Are we complicit in the wind and flood,
Or does our grief fall from a greater hand.
Existences reduced to mud and sand.
A rider to Life’s Lease in tears and blood.

No wondering How or Why when in the Where.
Oh Lord, if You exist, please, hear our prayer.

Some raise up their fists and curse.
Still others cite theories, perverse.
But each one will say
They remember the day
When everything changed. For the worse.

Wake up. Arise. Greet the morn.
One more poem about to be born.
Sad to say I’m in bed,
And stuck in my head
Is the thought of Ted Cruz “liking” porn.

In the Senate, ol’ Bern’s still a Player.
A Progressive Vermont dragon slayer.
He wants to kick ass
On the Healthcare morass.
Go Bernie! Bring home Single Payer!

The news we get from online links
Rarely changes what anyone thinks.
What we see is selected
Based on data collected,
And the “comments” part usually stinks.

Healthcare for All. Keeping score?
Some in Congress say Yes! with a roar.
Then, the ones who say “no”,
Grab the Lobbyists dough,
And show clearly who they’re working for.

Secret servers. A huge data hack.
Flees the country but forced to come back.
MSM cannot handle
The Awan brothers scandal.
Who is keeping us off of this track?

Now begins the investigation
Of a smoke, and flame-filled situation.
Without pause or doubt,
Our hearts all go out
To the victims of Parsons Green Station.

At podium on Emmy Night
Sean Spicer faced the nation.
To celebrate his tenure
As Head of Obfuscation.

Press Secretary to Punch Line
He’s still a blowin’ smoke.
Too bad the greater populace
Was not in upon the joke.

He lied and tap danced for his boss.
Accusing. Reprimanding.
How could the Hollywood Elite
Assist with his “rebranding”.

I guess this only goes to show
This is a show, indeed.
And all the actors on both sides
Go to one trough to feed.

When times are bad
And things get scary…
Throw money at
The Military.
(Burma Shame)

Lashed out against corrupt and roguish states.
Our sovereign stood before United Nations,
To stares and folded arms of delegations,
While threatening enemies with fiery fates.

A shallow nod to harmony and care
Then brags of greater spending on defense,
And halting aid without fair recompense.
Down in his Valley of Disrepair,

Diplomacy lost to belligerence.
While Bibi found it bold, more others sinister.
I quote the Swedish Foreign Minister:
Wrong speech, wrong time, to the wrong audience.

The message: Tho we wish our allies well,
We will look out for us. You should as well.

Play well with others?
That thought’s on the shelf.
The man cannot even
Play well with himself.
(Burma Shame)

Will fire rain down from the sky?
Will innocent folks have to die?
I won’t say the names of
Those who play the games of
“I know you are, but what am I”

Of the folly of war, one learns
From the new ‘Nam war flick by Ken Burns.
The toll of lives lost.
The damage, the cost,
Yet, and sadly, it’s how the world turns.

With the White House confounded by glitches,
And his policies riddled with hitches,
There’s so much amiss,
But still time to diss
Those kneeling football sons of bitches.

So the Anthem Debate has begun:
Who will stand. Who will kneel. (What fun.)
But amidst all the mayhem,
Ol’ Cassidy & Graham
Tried a Health Care repeal end run.

There are two Puerto Ricos it seems:
One’s flood waters burst at the seams.
The crisis it faced
Left millions displaced.
The other exists in Trump’s dreams.

In victory, let’s hear it for
The one who’s morals will not budge,
The Christian Theocratic Judge
The pistol packer named Roy Moore.

When we sing Alabammy Bound,
We mean bound up by Moore’s beliefs,
His putting God in legal briefs –
That is, the God that – he – has found.

What Senate laws will this man make
To pander to his base’s fears
Did God tell him to lock up queers
And burn the Heathens at the stake.

Roy Moore will not dictate to me.
God made me, but God made me free.

There once was a fellow named Hugh.
On a round satin bed he would screw.
In his time, he was bold.
With his nude centerfold.
But we read for the articles, too.

Getting word of the new Trump Tax Plan.
Full of breaks for the Corporate Man.
We’ll get soaked in vermillion
To the tune of two trillion,
And of course, he’s the Plan’s biggest fan.

After too many a chartered flight,
There’s a cabinet opening tonight.
This new resignation
For the Health of our nation
Goes to show that the Price was not right.



August, 2017


John Kelly says the free-for-all is through.
This Chief of Staff’s imposing discipline.
A welcome thought compared to how it’s been.
(But how long ‘til The Boss tires of him, too?)

So long to Mooch – that shiny, mirrored sleaze.
A major splash that quickly headed south.
Go home and let your mother wash your mouth.
When Kelly says to leave, he don’t say “please”.

For this Marine has lived the Art of War.
He’s suffered loss, and will not suffer fools.
Look forward now to protocol and rules.
And leave your midnight Twitters at the door

New order to the White House power grid,
As polished brass collides with flaming id.


Joseph Otting, an ace at evictions,
Once forclosed without conscience restrictions.
This One West retread
Was made Comptroller Head.
To further his avaricious predilections.


When 45
Makes his demands,
He pounds the table
With tiny hands.


Jeff Sessions. There’s some reason why
He wants pot illegal to buy.
Cracking down on the need
For medicinal weed.
Will somebody please get him high?


Conway says they shall tirelessly seek
To the Press, those who secretly speak.
Though this intrigue is fun,
It’s the shit being done,
As opposed to who’s taking the leak!


One-thousand two-hundred & sixty-three to go,
Until this odd administration ends.
And how it goes, on who you ask, depends.
And how much popcorn’s needed for the show.

So what’s been done? No wall, but immigration’s down.
The ACA will see another round.
And Syria has boots upon the ground.
Barhara, Flynn and Mooch are out of town.

The online memes by day, pundits by night.
Realities from Macedonian lies,
And Julian’s wikileaking pizza pies
The fumbling left. The weaponizing right.

We sicken from the vitriol and baiting.
And to the side, the Kochs and Mercer waiting.


A securities fraudster named Shkreli
Made a drug price hike that was quite smelly.
This Pharma Bro’s wealth
At the expense of good health
Earns him a nice place in Hell-y.


On vacation we two took flight
To Canada late Monday night.
To our cursory looks,
Nice folks, these Canucks.
Like Americans, but much more polite.


Two rulers engaged in a duel.
Their words were like fire to fuel.
This Nuclear Chess
Could create quite a mess.
And is, globally speaking, not cool.


A Russian jet set out to roam
O’er the White House & Capitol dome.
Those Slavic spy gents
Sought intelligence.
And then, finding none, flew back home.


Two leaders, both easily goaded.
Both tell us they’re locked up and loaded
Two fingers. Two triggers.
Two rockets. Who’s bigger?
Diplomacy’s just so outmoded.


Please forgive my need for complaint,
But Trump, a world leader? He ain’t!
He tweets out his threats
Without pause or regrets,
While China calls out for restraint.


They came to show they’re white and proud.
And the chant “blood and soil” got loud.
With their tikis aflame
Were “many sides to blame”?
When one plowed his car in a crowd.


My parents, truth be told, were racist folk.
Polite, but still avoiding black and brown.
And moved our family to a whiter town,
For schools where only English she is spoke.

They did not gift their hates and fears to me.
I found enough quite nicely on my own.
Not proudly though, and fewer as I’ve grown.
But given up by thought and choice – not by decree.

The blood and loss of life in Charlottesville.
The viral image, lit by tiki flame.
And now begins the rhetoric and blame.
All tiny snapshots of a greater ill.

In my own self the demon Other dwells.
But seeing It in others is what sells.


The twisted logic
Of white conceit.
The twisted crosses
On our street.
(Burma Shame)


Off line, away from the grid.
No news to report what he did.
My heart’s productivity
Needs no connectivity.
It is here that my peace has been hid.


Three days on a train presents
Paths to cross with new ladies and gents.
Talk of pleasant diversions
And favorite excursions
No bother with Current Events.


How refreshing when one sees the glow.
That comes with the word “Trudeau”
Not the smirk or the frown
That comes with the clown
We elected to serve down below.


The White House Chief Strategist
Is gone now, but won’t much be missed.
He’s juiced up for battle
In the Breitbart News saddle
Where he’ll give us both finger and fist.


A new Social Action has trended –
Downing statues of those who’ve offended.
It’s a fix cheap and fast –
Throwing stones at the past,
When so much of today must be mended.


Ah the once-in-a-lifetime views!
The corona and breathtaking hues!
Don’t miss all the fun!
Look up at the sun!
All the cautions you’ve heard are Fake News.


Of the outrage and scandals we’ve heard
From the violent to the absurd.
But in all this excitement
What of the indictment
Of Imram Awan? Not a word!


One-thousand two-hundred and forty-six
Days until this administration ends.
And how’s it going? Well, it just depends
On if we’re here to break or here to fix.

To celebrate a dark and bloody past?
To spend our future on these wars unending?
How long can those around him keep pretending.
Their leader has been hopelessly miscast.

Let’s fan the fires of discontent and rage
Condemn all thought of compromise as heresy
And blame it on the Media Conspiracy
Then, if a book remains, let’s turn the page.

For those who faulted what he had to say ~
Enjoy some Arizona Pepper Spray.


At Trump rallies we’ve seen quite a range
Of supporters for his brand of change.
They’re all waving signs
To speak what’s on their minds,
But that “Blacks For Trump” guy sure is strange.


It’s not that I really don’t care,
But this weekend I will not be there.
Damn the brickbat and shield
Upon Crissy Field.
Damn the “riot” in Patriot Prayer.


You can spend yer days in bed
If yer livin’ in Club Fed
Doin’ time locked up in Minimum Security.
It’s a far cry from the hell
Of the heat, the food, the smell
That you’d find in Arizona with assurity.

For in Maricopa County,
Where the boys hunt you for bounty,
With the handcuffs tight enough to make you cry-o
You can run or just confess,
Just make sure that you don’t mess
With that tough ol’ bastard Sheriff Joe Arpaio

It was Joe! Joe! Joe!
Serving old and moldy lunches, Sheriff Joe!
In the news, he’s give his ranties,
Dressed his inmates in pink panties,
But he’s good enough to pardon, Sheriff Joe.

Get pulled over in his town?
If yer skin is colored brown,
Have your papers ready, pray, and keep on smiling.
‘cuz before you ask “what’s up?”
You will find your ass locked up
With denials of a trace of race profiling.

Rolling over those who bossed him,
He’d go after those who crossed him,
Prosecuting those who’d dare to criticize.
From atop his prison tower,
Can you say “abuse of power”
Locking up reporters comes as no surprise.

It was Joe! Joe! Joe!
If a prisoner died in custody, who’d know?
This is jail, not insanity.
I lament your lost humanity,
But you’re good enough to pardon, Sheriff Joe.

Joe would boast he was the toughest
And he kept his prison roughest
Treating prisoners like dogs was his solution.
Though the Right might say “that’s great!”
Back in Two-Thousand and Eight,
His methods proved against the Constitution.

But you still could end up booked,
Locked up just for how you looked.
From due process, Sheriff Joe seemed quite exempt
Til’ one day, Judge Murray Snow
Put an ending to the show
And he finally found him guilty of contempt.

But then Joe! Joe! Joe!
Those who long for justice now are eating crow.
Your tough ways gave Trump a hard-on
So he granted you a pardon.

Go with God and thanks’ for nothin’, Sherrif Joe.


Over 40 inches of rain.
Loss, destruction and pain.
No food or power.
133 miles per hour.
Beyond the scope of my brain.


A year’s worth of harsh litigations.
And wikileak-type allegations.
The suit was dismissed.
Jared Beck must be pissed.
“Sure we cheated. Thanks for the donations. “


This is truly no reason to gloat.
Nature’s got that poor town by the throat.
It’s like there’s a curse,
For to make matters worse,
They’ve got fire ants that float!


Three cheers for FEMA’s Brock Long
Who’s disaster credentials are strong.
May he bring some relief
For those drowning in grief
Leave those red hats at home. They’re just wrong.


Good things to say? She had plenty!
When she should have been ruder and blunt-y.
Perhaps Feinstein is wise
With her eyes on the prize
As his running mate in 2020.


July, 2017

With days left at twelve-ninety-nine
Sara Huckabee’s doing just fine.
Her lame-ass excuses
For Trump’s Twitter abuses
Spew nicely along her party’s line.

With days left at twelve-ninety-eight
The EPA’s doing just great!
Pruitt wants to besmirch
Many years of research
And flood the world with more debate.

With days left at twelve-ninety-seven,
The madness continues to leaven.
Our American fate
Is not to be Great,
But to be All-Star Wrestling Heaven.

Listen my children, and I’ll turn you on
To the Presidential run of Don the Con
On the sixteenth of June in Twenty-fifteen,
Hardly a soul was on the scene
Who didn’t predict he’d soon be gone.

But he told the people what they wanted to hear,
Leaving sixteen candidates in his wake
As he spun his message of doubt and fear.
He was more than some TV Game Show flake.
Leaning more to FOX than NBC,
The “Values Voters” were his key,
As against “Lyin’ Hillary” he sounded alarms
Through bankrupt cities and repossessed farms,
And those who cherish their right to bear arms.

The Saturday Night Live Baldwin impressions,
The lurid Left’s “Fake News” confessions,
His daily phobic tweets and rants,
And grabbing hands down some chick’s pants.
So many moments, lacking grace
Would leave one lesser on his face,
But only strengthened Donald’s base.
With each outburst, they loved this jerk
Much more than Hillary Clinton’s smirk

Meanwhile, the trusty Christian Right
Saw his ascendance as part of The Plan
They heard the message beyond the man.
To right the wrongs of Barrack Obama,
To end this evil Muslim night,
And dump the “Lib-tards” in the can,
To end this Socialistic drama.

And gradually, he climbed the polls
With promises to make us great.
And through each gaffe, he’d boldly skate,
Obscuring specifics of his goals.
The Left could only shake their fists and bitch.
So powerful are Tax Breaks for the Rich,
And dreams of bringing decent jobs back home –
These castles built on sand and made of foam.
And so that night – and sadly unexpected:
November 8th we saw him get elected,
And in seclusion, Hillary popped a stitch.

A flurry of days as things proceed –
A global presence marred by lack of flair,
Attempted murder of Obamacare,
Our schools run by one who can barely read,
Our Highest Court to serve the moneyed few,
The Democrats who know not what to do,
The middle-class and poor still get the screw.
Our air and water no longer a priority,
And penalties for questioning authority,
While hired leaders cling to their seniority.
Is this the end of our Democracy?
No room for compromise or true debate,
A chasm filled by ever-blinding hate,
While ruled by some damned corporate theocracy.

The chapters yet to come have not been written.
But still, too many good souls have been bitten
By despair – so I say dear friends, stand tall
For how quickly the mightiest can fall.
This land – our land – not just for the elite.
This story need not end in our defeat.
From largest state to smallest neighborhood,
Seek those who choose to serve the common good.

And through these days of Don the Con
Especially on this Fourth of our July
Don’t wring your hands and wonder why,
For in twelve-ninety-six, he will be gone.
This Country’s weathered storms before
And fought off those who’d rig the score.
For borne on night winds of the Past
Through all our history to the last,
In hours of darkness, peril and need,
We have the power to see him gone,
And all those driven by their greed –
And end the ride of Don the Con.

They seem to have nihilist goals,
And post from their ass, without souls.
All “normies” beware.
Those Kek boys don’t care
That the comments section’s run now by trolls.

A dictator named Kim Jong Un
Had himself some ICBM fun.
If this nut should blow it,
Before we all know it,
We’ll find World War Three has begun.

To G20 in Hamburg he flew,
Where world leaders do what they do:
Kow-tow to investors,
Shoot at protestors,
And drink like a fish til they’re through.

Whatever the goals,
What ever the aims,
Hamburg does not deserve
The flames.

In sadness, watched upon the global stage,
While leaders chat, one sits in isolation.
A clueless metaphor. A once great nation
Gets left-behind as others turn the page.

But one discussion went on long and seriously
They spoke of life and trade and rigged elections
And marveled at the size of their erections,
But not of how one’s critics die mysteriously.

And now our future in this tiny hand
That cannot comprehend the matrix of our now,
No interest in the why, much less the how,
But still applauded through our shallow land.

How could we fall so far to see this as an answer
A flaming boil above a deeper cancer.

Of politics, it’s easy to tire.
There’s no bottom line to the mire.
So today we lament
All the money not spent
By the feds: California’s on fire!

Those voter fraud numbers are small.
Insignificant, as I recall.
But we are seeing surges
Of unwarranted purges,
And ballots not counted at all.

To serve Clinton dark-gossip sifters,
Don Jr. met with Russian “gifters”.
Are campaigns are the season
For collusion and treason?
So much for this family of grifters.

The summer daze of Trump seem never ending.
Each headline, post, and inch of Breaking News.
So which jaw-dropping scandal do you choose
While missing out on issues not as trending.

Like constant slashing of the Corporate Tax,
And dimming of our rights in subtle stages,
The crippling stagnation of our wages,
The Super Rich’s weight upon our backs.

Discrimination based on sex and race,
Our schools sadly bereft of arts and science
A State not wanting freedom, but compliance,
And Robber Barons eying cyberspace

This never-ending Clown Car’s poised to steal.
So keep your eye on who is at the wheel.

A protest in New York has arisin
Sending actor James Cromwell to prison.
Courageous, his backing
The war against fracking –
A destruction-for-profit decision.

The proposed Senate Health Bill’s a laugh!
Who cares if it hurts the riff-raff.
Those boys on The Hill
Showed their faith in the bill
By exempting themselves and their staff.

One friend says he’s tried
Counting up all who’ve died
Chasing Putin in the Russian nation.
While another’s decided
To count those “suicided”
On the trail of the Clinton Foundation.

Despite the loud noises from backers,
Trump’s numbers are low, say poll trackers.
But beyond his approval,
I’d prefer the removal
Of many Congressional slackers.

Despite all the wheel and deal,
There’s still no Replace and Repeal.
Does it cut too much stuff
Or not go far enough.
While we beg and borrow, they steal.

The Senator named John McCain
Had a tumor removed from his brain.
There’s much that he gave,
And he served – proud and brave.
May good health and strength he regain.

In comfort, I can sit and shake my head
In awe of how one serves a greater cause.
A six-year capture serves to give one pause.
In those boots, I would surely end up dead.

Enduring still, so shattered but not broken,
Refusing still, “Humanitarian Release”
But in his time, returning to find peace.
How many hells remaining yet unspoken.

A just cause found within an unjust war.
Perhaps a Hero forged in this survival.
Only to find one’s Presidential rival
Who gamely mocked all that had come before.

And now another foe to squarely face.
And God to shield you in Her warm embrace.

Politics is the thorniest garden.
Makes the sunniest optimist harden.
But there’s few things akin to
Donald Trump looking into
The ways he could grant his own pardon.

There’s a New Mouth for President Mango,
Causing Spicer to leave with a bang-oh.
Welcome to the show.
What the world wants to know:
Scaramouch, can you dance the Fandango?

Either Democrats are masochistic
Or Republicans are solipsistic.
But this sort of philandering
Called partisan gerrymandering
Lets a minority control a district.

A tragedy in San Antone.
An action we cannot condone.
I would so build a wall,
And behind it, put all
Those who traffic, and leave them. Alone.

One thing McCain said caught me fast:
“Stop listening to loudmouth bombast”
I thought it quite swell
That he damned them to hell.
Still, he voted “debate” and it passed.

The House IT staffer Awan
To Pakistan almost was gone.
But at Dulles, how odd,
Got arrested for fraud.
Do tell, what the hell’s going on.

With politics, I know I’m green.
All those deals made behind the scene.
I just have some doubt
Any good can come out
Of amending a bill you ain’t seen.

Collins, Murkowski, McCain.
They did not vote yes or abstain,
But rejected the deal
Called “skinny repeal”.
Once again, Trumpcare goes down the drain.

As promised he proceeds to drain the swamp.
A muddy puddle of his own creation.
A hateful show, but none can change the station.
Reality. A heads-a-rollin’ romp.

The Loyal Staff arrives, but leaves so soon.
To serve a King impossible to please
With zealotry, incompetence, or sleaze
Our future’s history becomes a sad cartoon.

While Gossip News leaves precious truths redacted,
And posturing replaces true discourses,
What policies were moved by unseen forces,
What things were taken while we were distracted.

When all D.C. gets thrown beneath the bus,
Who will be left to truly speak for us.

To police, Donald Trump says, “Use force!”
Knock some heads without feeling remorse!
That’s a bit of a swerve
From “to protect and serve”
But it’s making us great, so of course!

My lovely wife thinks I am neat.
Together, we two are complete.
But it must be confessed
That despite all my best,
With Sam Shepard, I could never compete.