Category Archives: donald trump

Two Poems by Jim Feeney

oddball magazine

The Fallen (2017)

1
Goodbye Reince Priebus
no longer will I contemplate
the strange music of your name –
those slender vowels reversing,
no longer will I look for meanings, explanations –
Reince?
A salve to be applied sparingly to a wound?
Put some Reince on that cut, son!
a rinse? a douche? a poultice?
and Priebus?
Latinate portliness – a Shakespearean character,
a writ to slap someone with- Habeas Priebus,
or a complicated skateboard manouevre:
He executed a perfect reverse Priebus!
Reince, it’s been a slice.

2
Scaramucci, Scaramucci,
will you do the fandango?

Anthony, we hardly knew you,
but thanks for letting us know
about Steve Bannon
and his auto-fellatio.

3
Alas, poor Stephen,
abandoned
like a rumpled sofa.

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…

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Post-Election Rag (redux)

This poem was written earlier in the year, but it is still , I think, depressingly relevant. It also appeared with 4 other poems in the online magazine Anti-Heroin Chic

 

Post-Election Rag

 

(Walk that back

walk that back

I know I said it

but I walked that back.)

 

Attack dog surrogates

inveterate invertebrates

re-stock the swamp

with old white males.

 

Post logic, post truth

snake oil and kool-aid

re-stock the swamp

with old white males.

 

Post Obamacare,

post pussy-gate, post gator aid

re-stock the swamp

with old white males

 

Inveterate surrogates

attack dog invertebrates

re-mail the stock

to the old white swamp

 

re-stock the swamp

with old white males.

 

 

Texts from the Underworld

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he can’t quite remember when they started –

the text messages direct to his head,

actual text messages

appearing on the screen of his brain

preceded by a ping;

they were innocuous at first

quasi-inspirational stuff like:

ping! write like no one is reading;

ping! own the day, it cost you nothing.

Then they became fragmented

like someone was trigger happy

on the ‘send’ button:

ping! America, the country

ping! that God is asked to bless

ping! is hurtling down

ping! a golden garbage chute

ping! that goes all the way

ping! to hell!

Then, nothing for a while.

Then, one message repeating

its sneer implicit in its abbreviation

its adopted argot,

over and over again

a non-stop textual assault:

ping! Dems got no game

ping! Dems got no game

ping! Dems got no game….

 

Photo: Detail from fresco inside the Camposanto, Pisa, Italy

 

Bones Of Contention

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Bones of Contention

Bones to pick.

Barrack Obama pardons Chelsea Manning.

Donald Trump pardons Joe Arpaio.

Is there moral equivalence here?

The Trump surrogate on CNN thinks so

but there are no metrics to measure by

so the discussions drag on and on

and the screen splits into two heads

and the screen splits into four heads

and the screen splits into eight heads

a pundit arrives

a pundit leaves

a pundit gets indignant

a pundit gets emotional

a pundit gets that gotcha smirk

there is talk of smoke and fire

there not been one without the other

and I see this distraction of pundits

this deflection of pundits

this confusion of pundits

standing looking at the horizon

across an open plain,

oblivious, while behind them

Rome burns.

 

 

 

Goodbye Reince Priebus(with apologies to Queen)

Goodbye Reince Preibus

no more  will I contemplate

the strange music of your name

those slender vowels reversing

no longer will I look for meanings, explanations

Reince? A salve to be applied

sparingly to a wound?

a rinse? a douche? a poultice?

and Priebus? A complicated procedure?

Last night, doctors performed

an emergency preibus

the patient is doing well.

Goodbye Reince Preibus

I’m sorry to see you go

now we are left with Steve Bannon

and his auto fellatio

Scaramucci, Scaramucci

will you do the fandango.

Fareed Zakaria is Stealing my Stuff

I was watching Fareed Zakaria and Don Lemon on CNN last Friday night; they were trying to make sense of  the ongoing tragic farce that is the Trump White House and Don Lemon posed a question which could be summarised as follows : “Is Donald Trump crazy like a fox or crazy like a fool”. It was clear that Fareed thinks that the needle has been stuck on ‘fool’ for quite some time. At one point, he says to Don something like “look, you have to understand that Donald Trump is a performance artist.” This sounded familiar to me, so I looked back through my blog posts and there it was in a poem I published on Reuben Wooley’s website :’I am not a Silent Poet” back in January 2016. Here’s the poem, but please click on the link above and check out Reuben’s excellent site.

Trumped

I get it now

Donald T

Is a performance artist

Like that guy in Beijing

Sucking dust out of the air

With a vacuum cleaner

Or maybe he’s

one of those mirrors

In a fairy tale

Reflecting only

The worst in ourselves.

 

Fareed, I’m waiting to hear from you.

 

Agent Orange has a Dark Moment

 

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Agent Orange has a Dark Moment

Do you know who I miss? Jeb Bush. I miss Jeb Bush. He was my first. When I hit him with that low energy jibe and he fell apart and all the Bush family could not put Humpty together again, I knew I was on to something. Then Little Marco and Lyin’ Ted, I miss them too. But most of all, I miss Hillary, Crooked Hillary. Man, she was tough, had me on the ropes. It took Comey and Vlad, that pointy headed villain, to get me back on my feet. I was nearly out for the count, which might not have been a bad thing. Who needs this shit! I should give Vlad a call, I’m a bit worried -there’s no such thing as a free hack.

Reince Priebus – what kind of fucking name is that? It sounds like bad news from the doctor. “I’m sorry, Donald, you have a Reince Priebus on your rectum and it doesn’t look good”. Ha, I just made myself laugh. And Bannon, I’ve seen sofas on the side of the road in better shape than that rumpled fucker. Spice Box? Hardest job in the world – explaining the unexplainable. That Melissa Mc.Carthy  just slays me. How come all the cool people are on the other side? Who have I got? Ryan and Pence? Bland and Blander? Where did Pence come from anyway with his brush cut and his antediluvian politics? The best surgeons in the world couldn’t remove the poker from that guy’s ass. Antediluvian, you didn’t expect that did you?

Talking of cool, I should give Barack a call, ask him down to Florida for a game of golf; check his birth certificate again (Joking! How I miss those days). Man, I hate this fucking White House furniture, is it Friday yet?

Point of View/ The Arc of Agent Orange

 

The Arc of Agent Orange

          I

And so we

spin from one

spin to the

next;  things I

 

said, I did

not mean; things

I meant, I

did not say.

 

Stand by for Greatness

Stand by for Greatness

Stand by for Greatness

 

II

 

Success can

be measured,

 

The toys have

left the pram.

 

Stand by for Greatness

Stand by for Greatness

Stand by for Greatness

 

 

American Carnage

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American Carnage

Not the export it used to be,

nothing like the glory days

Hiroshima, Vietnam, Cambodia;

still popular at home tho’

nearly twelve thousand gun deaths a year

the gun barrel points both ways.

This is not much of a poem, is it?

That last metaphor was a bit clumsy

and there’s no music in statistics

but there is a rhyme in that last line

and there’s assonance in ‘American Carnage’

and there is an ass in the White House

but enough about that

stay away from the low hanging fruit

we need a rhyme

carnage, baggage, garbage, image

imagine all the people

that’s what this situation needs

a protest singer, a protest song

three chords and a chorus

that we can sway and link arms to

Where are you

Josh (Ritter)

Michael (Stipe)

Bruce ?

Donald Trump Enters the Kingdom of Heaven

This is how I’m going to do it, folks,

I’ll build a giant needle,

the biggest, shiniest, pointiest needle

that you have ever seen.

This needle will be so pointy, folks.

 

Then I’ll  get a camel

from Egypt or somewhere like that.

Get the irony ,

me buying a camel.

See, I can do irony

I can be so ironic.

I’ll  mount that camel

using my gold escalator,

and ride it

right through the eye of the needle

into the kingdom of heaven

and when I get there, folks,

when I get there

I’m going to make some changes.

Those angels…….

Sitting around on clouds playing harps

for eternity? Give me a break!

Eternity is a long time, folks,

eternity is the longest time….

anyway, where was I..right

those angels are gone, history, outta there

who needs them?

Then I’ll sit down with God

the Father, the Son and the Holy Ghost.

well maybe not the Holy Ghost,

what is he anyway…a dove? A ghost?

That’s it folks no more Holy Ghost.

Gone, history, outta there.

Who needs him?

Another thing, folks

who’s actually in charge?

Is it the Father or the Son?

Has to be the Father,

can’t let your children run things.

So I’ll sit down with God the Father, folks

and together

we’ll make Heaven great again!