On Reflection…. Donald Trump
America has given birth
to a giant orange child
a zaftig infant Gulliver
striding the ravaged earth
of his own imagination
trampling whole villages
swallowing villagers whole.
This poem was published previously in Oddball Magazine.
Bunker Buster Bomb
Assonance and ordnance
alliteration and obliteration
assault by the letter ‘B’
Even the CNN anchors
can’t help but marvel
at the stealth, the wealth, the power
the Tom Cruisean glamour of it all.
Will there be a sequel?
There’s always a sequel
Anderson Cooper’s Hair
There’s something comforting
about Anderson Cooper’s hair
its quietude
its insouciance
its unabashed whiteness
no Clooney dusting of grey
no Pavarotti boot polish black
just plain white
lightly cropped
a hint of a comb over, maybe
but that’s ok
and it does not move
a Midwest tornado
vile invective
a blast of foul air
from the president’s mouth
nothing moves Anderson Cooper’s hair;
to misquote Paul McCartney
and triple down on a preposition
in this ever changing world
in which we live in,
there’s something
comforting about that.
The Sheriff Of Tariffdom
Down by Locarno Beach
two guys in camouflage pants
are repeatedly checking
underneath their parked Tesla
they check, they get back in the car
they don’t start the car
they get back out
they check underneath the car again
what could they be looking for?
Snow-capped mountains
an empty eagle’s nest
in the bare branches of a tree
is this a symbol?
Is everything a symbol?
Nope,
the eagle is down on the beach
searching for snacks in tide pools
is this a metaphor?
Is everything a metaphor?
April’s Fools Day, and to the south of us
The Sherriff of Tariffdom
The Prince of Petulance
The Toddler King
is looking for his Sharpie.
The prompt over at dverse is :
“So for this prompt our writing will be in the Open Poetry Form, otherwise known as Free Verse or Vers Libre. This is not to be regarded as an anarchic free-for -all but rather poetry set free from the uniform straight jacket.”
For more on Laura’s excellent prompt, read here.
The Man with Orange Hair (A Lament)
Wiffle, waffle, wombat ways
These are the very worst of days.
Beware, beware, beware, beware
Beware the man with orange hair.
Grickle, grackle, grunt and grumble
Sit and watch the markets tumble
The threat of war is everywhere
Beware the man with orange hair
Trump, Rubio, Vance and Musk
It’s enough to make an angel cuss
Protest, protest if you dare
Beware the man with orange hair.
The prompt over at dverse is:
“Writing challenge: Write a complaint using the poetry form made popular by William Dunbar, Lament for the Makers. Your theme is your own, be it unrequited love or a satirical poem on the injustice of the world.“
Dispatch from La Costa Gringa
A baby’s soother in the sand
plastic nipple blackening
in the Mexican sun.
Tequila on the rocks
Iguanas on the rocks
A girl with a falcon
by the breakfast buffet.
Down here on La Costa Gringa
it’s still Margaritaville
but no one I see is wasting away
and no one, absolutely no one
wants to talk politics.
In the markets though
they’re selling t shirts
saying Canada and Mexico
are not for sale.
A gay couple from San Francisco
get married on the beach.
Why does this seem threatened?
Why does everything seem threatened?
And to the north of us
a president out of an abandoned Vonnegut novel
is making friends with enemies
making enemies out of friends.
Taking part in Open Link over at dverse.
Donald Trump announced today that the Canada Goose (Branta canadensis) will from now on be called the America Goose (Goosaurus Americanus). He says that Canada has been stealing American birds for too long and now it’s payback time!
Wait…..this just in….Donald has now banned the use of Latin to name animals, plants and flowers. He says “For too long , we have kowtowed to the Romans, but no more, from now on the only empire is the American Empire!”
If you’re reading this message I recommend you join TOT, Turn Off Trump. You’ll find that both your mental health and your relationship with the truth will vastly improve (clinical studies have shown).
The Editor, Vapid Magazine
If you’re reading this message I recommend you join TOT, Turn Off Trump. You’ll find that both your mental health and your relationship with the truth will vastly improve (clinical studies have shown).
The Editor, Vapid Magazine.
Muskerberg and The Toddler King
The rough beast is leaving Bethlehem
Musk Ox and Meta Morf
joined at the hip
their android stares
fixed on the horizon
slouching into twenty twenty five.
And all across the world
lonely men light up their lap tops
and search for unverified facts
formerly known as “lies”.
Meanwhile the Toddler King sleeps soundly
dreaming that he’s on an ice floe
off the coast of Greenland.
In the dream he owns that ice floe
and seals honk
in what he interprets to be approval.
Taking part in OpenLink over at dverse
The Second Coming of Donald
The rumors started just after he won the election
strange happenings at his rallies
the blind seeing
the deaf hearing
the lame walking
the mute talking
he began to take credit for the sun coming up.
Then those stories out of Mar A Lago
how at one banquet
he turned bread rolls into fried chicken
and at another
he turned water into Coca Cola
then there was the time
he walked across a pond
to retrieve his golf ball
and fishing..
don’t talk to me about fishing
the people of Florida
are lining up to go fishing with Donald.
Post –Election Riddle
If a democracy elects
a threat to democracy
is that self-harm?
The Trickle Down
Donald wins
and the Dow goes priapic
more money in the pockets of the working man
NOT
at best a trickle down
a leakage
from the anus of capitalism.
Taking part in Open Link over at dverse.
Will Trumpty Get Back on the Wall?
Will Trumpty, will Trumpty
get back on the wall?
Less than 3 months to go
and it’s too close to call.
There are those who know
he’s a felon, a fake
but others just like
the noises he makes.
The grunts , the growls
of the alpha male
the postures, the pouting
the lies and tall tales.
Taking part in OpenLink over a dverse.
Notes on the Trump Trial
Michael Coen
fifty shades of shady
a face like collapsed optimism
Stormy Daniels
Stormy goes for bust
still Stormy after all these years
Judge and Jury
a thankless and dangerous job
The Sketch Artist
star of the show
Michelangelo
with an orange pen
Donald Trump
‘nuff said.
The Dryer Vent Invasion
Last night I dreamt
that Jared Kushner and Stephen Miller
had entered my basement
through the dryer vent,
maybe “entered” is the wrong word
it was more an “insinuation”,
a slithering, under the vent flap
down the plastic vent hose
and into the dryer drum
where they paused briefly
to cough up some lint
before pushing open the dryer door
and oozing out onto the basement floor.
In the morning I went down to check the basement
feeling more than a little anxious.
it was empty, nothing had changed.
I sensed movement
out of the corner of my right eye
I turned, but there was no one there.
I sensed movement
out of the corner of my left eye
I turned, again there was no one there
but there was a smell
not the usual one, from that sock
abandoned at the bottom of my gym bag
this was rancid, pungent, acrid, fetid, halitotic
with a hint of damp weasel…….
the smell of venal ambition.
Jared is back in the news again, so I thought I would give this one another run.
Mitch McConnell looks back one more time before the ship sails off
Mitch stares in from the murky depths
an oxygen tank strapped to his back,
his lugubrious visage
fills the porthole
he removes his oxygen mask
a bubble escapes from his mouth
and floats upwards
his wattles sway like kelp
in the shifting currents
he has the detached look
of a man examining a museum exhibit
another bubble escapes upwards
he turns and kicks for the surface
his sagging buttocks
pale but somehow luminous
The Ogre at the Gates of Democracy
The Ogre is at the Gates of Democracy
and we….. we are trembling on the ramparts,
armed with water pistols and toy rifles,
back in the castle
our jesters jest
our jesters taunt
our bards sing songs of ridicule
but no one’s fooled.
The Ogre lowers his orange head
and charges once more
behind him the assembled hordes froth and roar
froth and roar
behind him the assembled hordes
froth and roar.
Well, that was all a bit melodramatic, wasn’t it? On the other hand…….. this month The Atlantic magazine devoted a whole issue to the question ” If Trump Wins”; 24 articles in all, predicting the effect of a Trump victory on everything from NATO to anxiety. In addition there’s an essay by Tim Alberta on The Church of America (My father, my faith and Donald Trump). It’s worth buying the magazine for that essay alone, that is if you want to know why White Christian America would embrace a sinner like Trump.
But what got me most about the articles and essays, despite the erudition, insightfulness and eloquence, was that it all seemed like a collective throwing up of the hands; a feeling of despair, failure and powerlessness . I know journalists love a narrative but come on now……and then I thought of Amy Klobuchar who, when in a CNN interview prior to the last election, was asked what she was going to do about the limited number of polling stations in known Democratic Party areas in her state, said that they had it covered, they were organizing buses, rides, they would get people to the polls. In other words, they were organizing, taking action. Analysis can only go so far.
Taking part in OpenLinkNight over at dverse.
The Toddler King Part 5
5 a.m.
the toddler king
checks his twitter feed
access denied
it’s quiet now
but all last night
all he could hear
was the squeak and rustle
of rats leaving the ship
he stares out into the murky depths
Mitch McConnell swims by
an oxygen tank strapped to his back,
his lugubrious visage
fills the porthole
he removes his oxygen mask
a bubble escapes from his mouth
and floats upwards
his wattles sway like kelp
in the shifting currents
he has the detached look
of a man examining a museum exhibit
another bubble escapes upwards
he turns and kicks for the surface
his sagging buttocks
pale but somehow luminous
Am I dead?
The toddler king wonders
I can’t be dead
I’m absolutely not dead
If I say I’m not dead
I’m not dead.
Hey, what’s Ted Cruz doing out there
I thought this was a Cruz ship!
See, I made a joke
I can’t be dead!
Hurricane Donald
What mighty wind blows hard out of Mar-A-Lago
up-ending facts like trailers in a trailer park
ripping the roofs off reputations
revealing the gyrations in the bedrooms below
hailing down bombast and innuendo
on the corrugated tin of truth
a wind that makes Ian and Fiona
look like that nice Scottish couple across the road
(Is she Irish?), the ones you should invite over for dinner
or is it just a storm in a tumbler
is it just Donald raving
in the cocktail hour of his years.
Taking part in Open Link Weekend over at earthweal
Make America Serious Again
make America serious again, Joe
it’s time
it’s time
all those rabble forming
Capitol storming
sons and daughters
of Fox News
and The National Enquirer
with their MAGA hats
and their saturated fats
and their uniforms from Costco
kick them to the curb, Joe
kick them to the curb
those blond surrogates
with their perfect teeth
and their android eyes
those slick grifters
those cocaine sniffers
those arse lickers
with their Bannon leers
and their licorice souls
kick them to the curb, Joe
kick them to the curb
It’s time , Joe
the world needs
a man on a white horse
at least for a while,
it’s high noon, Joe
the orange buffoon, Joe
kick him to the curb
kick him to the curb
it’s time, Joe
it’s time.
Taking part in the Open Link Weekend over at earthweal, check them out …one of the most interesting poetry websites and Brendan’s editorials and challenges are always fascinating.
The Toddler King Part 5
5 a.m.
the toddler king
checks his twitter feed
access denied
it’s quiet now
but all last night
all he could hear
was the squeak and rustle
of rats leaving the ship
he stares out into the murky depths
Mitch McConnell swims by
an oxygen tank strapped to his back,
his lugubrious visage
fills the porthole
he removes his oxygen mask
a bubble escapes from his mouth
and floats upwards
his wattles sway like kelp
in the shifting currents
he has the detached look
of a man examining a museum exhibit
another bubble escapes upwards
he turns and kicks for the surface
his sagging buttocks
pale but somehow luminous
Am I dead?
The toddler king wonders
I can’t be dead
I’m absolutely not dead
If I say I’m not dead
I’m not dead.
Hey, what’s Ted Cruz doing out there
I thought this was a Cruz ship!
See, I made a joke
I can’t be dead!
Taking part in Open Link Weekend over at earthweal
The Dryer Vent Invasion
Last night I dreamt
that Jared Kushner and Stephen Miller
had entered my basement
through the dryer vent,
maybe “entered” is the wrong word
it was more an “insinuation”,
a slithering, under the vent flap
down the plastic vent hose
and into the dryer drum
where they paused briefly
to cough up some lint
before pushing open the dryer door
and oozing out onto the basement floor.
In the morning I went down to check the basement
feeling more than a little anxious.
it was empty, nothing had changed.
I sensed movement
out of the corner of my right eye
I turned, but there was no one there.
I sensed movement
out of the corner of my left eye
I turned, again there was no one there
but there was a smell
not the usual one, from that sock
abandoned at the bottom of my gym bag
this was rancid, pungent, acrid, fetid, halitotic
with a hint of damp weasel
the smell of venal ambition
the smell of distilled evil
one hundred per cent proof.
Taking part in Open Link Weekend over at earthweal
Late at night in the White House
while Donald’s in bed asleep,
the dead presidents
one and all
leave their places
on the wall
to dance their dance
to sing their song
of presidential grief.
The Return of Agent Orange
once again, the muddled masses gather
once again, the anxious flag flutters
in the magaleptic breeze.
The Fly on Top of Mike Pence’s Head Speaks
It’s so white up here.
What’s that fragrance?
Is it Rogaine?
Is it piety?
Is it Rogaine and piety?
You seem a little nervous
around the women folk, Mike.
Can I recommend a good conditioner?
Taking part in Open Link Weekend over at earthweal.
Stopdraggingthepanda 