We All Know Who HE Is

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HE hit the links; binge watched TV; took dumps on the can
And defiled / defied all laws of both God and man

HE alienated each ally; hugged each autocrat freak
And shred treaties to ensure, world tensions would peak

HE secured for patricians; their wildest fantasies’ wealth
And screwed over plebeians; our fiscal / physical health

HE saw to it, the working stiffs’ wages would drop
And morphed each workplace, into a wretched sweatshop

HE deep-sixed émigrés’ trudge towards the American dream
And caged families’ tykes, till they’d cry, wail and scream

HE offset boudoir shortcomings; his in the sack stall
And groused till grunts toiled; would erect his daft wall

HE embraced all Nazis and Klansmen; prone to deep psychosis
And they became voter base; his base, simp symbiosis

HE being full of himself, minus praise, HE’d feel dread
And so, yes-men lent him succor; gave him verbal head

HE rarely sat in church pews, beneath pointed steeple
And miscast naysayers / news hawks; “Enemies of the people!”

HE kicked over / cancelled out, time honored science
And showed climatologists / virologists, his flat-out defiance

HE downplayed the plague’s march, spanning our feverish globe
And got promptly outwitted, by a Mindless Microbe

HE obsessed re his ratings; more than COVID’s death toll
And wondered why grieving souls, called him an asshole

HE deemed himself undefeatable, that folks judged him God
And that his ballot box ouster, meant “widespread voter fraud”

HE ranted, demanded to keep his gold throne and fame
And never, once, re his loss: accepted HE was to blame

HE became royally pissed, tried to quash the election,
And rabble roused till HE stirred up mayhem / insurrection

HE’s been impeached, twice; his words / deeds, have earned our revulsion
Yet, it’s highly unlikely HE’ll ever face down expulsion

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Stay Publicly Masked!
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Multidimensional Message (Acrostic)

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Fascist flattery junkie, craves his lunatic fringe
Undue praise, from fans, fills up that addict’s syringe
Craven butt kissers, smooch his rear region’s dinge
Kudos from his TV toadies; on them, too, he’ll binge

Tyrant torches Democracy; won’t settle for singe
Rouses rabble & rebels; makes the virtuous cringe
Unruly ruler’s brain cells, both unravel; unhinge
Moneyed, yet bankrupt, sums up his selfish stinge
Pain in everyone’s ass, far exceeds the slight twinge

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-30-

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TRUE Blue v MAGA Red

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The true blue, who true love U.S., can attest
With sacrosanct human rights we’re, indeed, blest
Free speech and press, faith and peaceful protest
Liberty, fair play, The Dream, too, reach crest!

So, why do fools love goldbrick kings, second best?
To humorless birdbrains exclaim, “Be our guest!”
Fall hook, line and sinker for carrot-orange pest
Who infests his twenty-four karat gold nest!

That head case, head MAGA-man, manifest
Tweets, bleats, shits out each dictate / request
And once his red MAGA mad hatters ingest
U.S. they’ll bulldoze, burn down and molest!

Puppeteer / puppets both should face inquest
Their D.C. attack wasn’t legit unrest
Should Feds fail to show keen interest
Let’s opt for a citizen’s arrest!

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-30-

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Nearly as Loose as Mother Goose?

Preface: Based on a popular English language Nursery Rhyme, my following revision is rooted in Donald J. Trump’s, latest “perfect phone call” where that little fusspot despot attempted and (fortunately) failed to strong arm Georgia’s Secretary of State Brad Raffensperger; i.e., persuade that state level official, a fellow Repubilcan, no less, to illegally muck up the vote tally to wrongfully deny President-Elect Joe Biden the Oval Office. While, most assuredly, there’s absolutely nothing pretty and principled re the (T)rump’s eye view of raw power, nonetheless, in a nutshell, the following rhyme sums up the Trumpster’s ‘tude this past weekend.

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Little Trump, flaccid,
Sat in panic room, placid
Feasting on his Fascist pie
He reached up his poop chute
Pulled out a coup d’état “cute”
And said, “What a good boy am I!”

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-30-

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Cremains of the Crop

Whilst drunk on power “king” upends the flask, it,
The key question remains, so, let’s ask it
Are Corona deniers case, basket?
These defiers are known to blow gasket
Each decrier’s beef: Hardly a task (it)
To social distance; to nose and mouth mask it
Follow up question arises, let’s ask it
Are “de” fools cool with “earned” COVID urn / casket?

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-30-

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We’re NOT Buying!

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For “The Power”, freaks are vying
The golden throne, they’re always eyeing
Spackled make-up, slick hair dyeing
Can’t pretty up, the schlock they’re plying

In face of truth, they’re always flying
They’ll flout the facts, with flat-out lying
Into our lives, they’re prying / spying
Yet, care not if we’re living / dying

To say the least, these times are trying
Blood can boil, till brains are frying
It precipitates, our sobbing / crying
But our shed tears, we must be drying

Let’s make damned sure, to shun our shying
Let’s act more “alpha”, axe our sighing
To shoddy wares, that pols are plying
Let’s promptly proclaim, “We’re NOT buying!”

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To keep on living, delay dying:

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-30-

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Inventory of Life (Vers Libre)

Upon taking an honest, introspective inventory of life
Do we not encounter a nearly palpable awareness
Of our multiverse’s magnitude and magnificence
The, perhaps, divine omnipotence and omnipresence

Do we not frequently behold such enormity and ubiquity
Interwoven within each rainbow’s dazzling technicolor
Upon fragile flower blossoms glistening with dewdrops
Coexisting beneath the dawn’s early light sunbeams

Hear it within the awakened songbird’s impromptu symphony
The ocean’s surging roar and waterfall’s ceaseless rush
A busy at play, carefree child’s timeless, uninhibited giggles
Our euphoric oohs and aahs; as well as the contented sighs

Feel it within the comforting warmth of a loved one’s held hand
The beating heart’s pulse coursing; circulating subcutaneously
The temperate, summer sunlight cast upon our welcoming faces
The temperamental, winter storm antithesis; its cold shoulder chill

Sense the fragrance at rain shower’s end
The saline scent of the brisk sea breeze
The sweet smell of freshly cut blades of grass,
Our aromatic, home baked, daily bread

Taste the perspiration of an honest day’s work
The character of both joy’s and sorrow’s tears
The distinctive flavor of kisses that unite and invite
The spiciness of life’s shared attributes and diversity

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-30-

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The Tyke Prone To Bawl

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Consider the creature, so amoral and small
No preacher and teacher can reach him at all

He’ll grab at his Sharpie to redraw and scrawl,
His garbled amendments: ill-conceived overhaul

How odd that the “expert” at building “The Wall”
Could not contain COVID, per clear-cut protocol

Teched Tweets title self-portrait: The Tyke Prone To Bawl
Stump speech bleats invite, incite his freak fans to brawl

Both impudence and imprudence fuel his gall
Immaturity and impurity cause bad boy to stall

Our ballot box ouster, dethroned that oddball
Yet, to get him to scram, might prove order tall

To remain in high spirits, try high proof alcohol
Let’s hoist mugs to roast him; his flaws, faults, folderol!

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Stay Publicly Masked!
Stay Safe at Home!
Stay Healthy!

-30-

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