Category Archives: Politics

Trilling

Click on any photo to enlarge all.  jdbphotos

Trilling 

Don’t you hear the mockingbird
trilling out the whole absurd
story of the passing year,
giving voice to shock and fear?

Listen to the mourning dove,
warning us from far above,
the starlings, wrens and birds of prey.
Our debts all nature has to pay.

How can it be that those in power
sit and ponder and yet cower,
too intent on their own needs
to enact necessary deeds

to bring a tyrant fool to task—
to do what all the sane men ask?
Shame on these godly well-heeled men
who fold their hands and say amen,

but let sick children go untreated,
tenements to go unheated,
our waterways to be polluted,
laws and edicts instituted

that benefit the filthy rich
to raise themselves another niche

while milling masses unenlightened
vote heedless as their belts are tightened,

favoring the autocrats
in fear of what the democrats
“might” do, when all around them all
democracy proceeds to fall.

Hear  her there, up on the limb,
surveying all who follow him?
Simple nature mocking us?
Laughing at our furious fuss?

Perhaps more knowing than we know
when raging fires and piles of snow
assault us, it is nature’s way
to lead us and to have its say.

We cannot think of only our
needs and exercise our power
for special interests without paying.
This is what all of nature’s saying.

Mudslides, hurricanes and drought
may show us what it’s all about.
Balance, sanity and sharing
fairness, ecology and caring

will bring about a world that’s lasting
beyond our legislature’s casting.
God-fearing men, do you care
about how your children fare?

And as those whom we’ve elected,
oh so naïvely selected
pad their pockets and close their eyes,
our world around us swiftly dies.

Those are the truths clearly absurd
told to us by the mockingbird.
He sits above on swaying limb.
Why are the masses deaf to him?

The prompt today is trill.

The Rack

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Tenterhook: a hook used to fasten cloth on a drying frame or tenter.

The Rack

The whole world stretched on tenterhooks, suspense our daily bread.
We hardly know how we should feel until the news is read.
No gentle folds around us to cushion out our dread.
What country now in warfare? What new group fallen dead?
The sadness of the whole taut world unravels in our head.
The fabric of society loosening thread by thread.
Billionaires grow fatter as children go unfed
when politics and Wall Street are so smugly wed.
Like bleating sheep we follow. We are so easily led.
What was meant to swathe us  hooks us on the rack instead.

The prompt today is tenterhooks.

Stirring the Pot

 

Stirring the Pot

Chunks and grains swirl round and round. They form a muddy mass.
I keep my paddle churning them as I turn on the gas.
As all the chunks and  bits melt down, the volume now decreases.
I watch the whole mess carefully. My vigilance increases.
I see it all congealing—an oily inky sludge
that after lengthy stirring finally turns to fudge!
This horrid, bubbling, lumpy goo that appeared so pernicious,
in the end turns into something creamy, rich, delicious.

 

In a recent conversation with a friend who is a scientist, water expert and inspector of water systems and industrial water waste, I learned the interesting fact that there is some hope regarding environmental issues, even in the wake of the Trump administration’s ridiculous easing of standards. He assured me that they’ve had little influence on the industrial systems he inspects as the large companies, first of all, are set up to conform to stricter standards and the restructuring of the system would be so costly that they are not about to alter things to meet new laws that will probably be changed back again anyway and which even they see the dangers of.

Hopefully, one thing that we will learn as a result of this ongoing disaster and embarrassment is that we need to alter the powers of the president, especially regarding his appointment of lifetime judges and his ability to administratively change standards that should be determined by congress or popular vote.  The other changes that must be made are in the electoral college and lobbying rules. Perhaps the only good that will come out of this POTUS “calling trump” on us is that it will stir the pot and bring about much-needed  change. The rules of our democracy did not take into account the possibility of the election of such an ignorant, childish and corrupt leader as Trump has proven to be.

 

The prompt word today is sludge.

Black as His Soul

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“A black object is black because it’s absorbing all the light; it’s not reflecting any color.”

Black as His Soul

Black as the soul of POTUS, dark as Beelzebub.
As sable as the darkest night, tarred as an axle hub.
It does not serve you well, my dear, to fall in love with black.
It draws your whole light into it and gives you nothing back.
Black will draw and quarter you, stretch you on the rack.
It is the shade of Mack the Knife, a ripper known as Jack.
There’s no good connotation for this tone of night.
You simply cannot find one—try howe’er you might.
Black robs you of your light and keeps it as its own.
It is a cruel jailer, sitting on its thrown.
Who would guess so many could be so misguided
as to elect a president who is so ill-betided?
What an ugly irony that he who decries colored skin
should have a soul whose pigment takes all color in.
No matter how you’re drawn to it, please take a different tack,
for no matter what you do, black doesn’t love you back.

The prompt today is black.

How the Mighty Will One Day Fall

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I would pay a pretty tuppence
to see his highness get his comeuppance.
His smug assurance, his galling preening.
He’s like a babe in need of weaning,
sucking at the teat of fame.
What other mortal needs his name
written on towers around the world?
He’s Ozymandius, stone lip curled
in cruel splendor, sure in his power
reasserted on every tower.
But remember, as he counts each coup,
how all the mighty have fallen, too.
False knights wear armor prone to tarnish.
His Midas touch will lose its varnish.
We’ll laud the day when he’ll be dumped—
That day when he’ll be over-trumped!

 

The prompt today was mighty.

“A Little Bird Keeps Tweeting Us!”

Here’s another wonderful Simon and Garfunkel parody on the subject of Mr. Trump’s Tweetings.

 

Here is the source website for this.

Parsing Warshington

Translation: “Donald, we are watching you!”  jdb photo, solidarity march, La Manzanilla, MX


Parsing Warshington

Politics became a farce
the year that voting brains were sparse
and we elected that damn narc-
issistic, cretinous horse’s arse!!
It’s clear we couldn’t have chosen warse!!!!

The prompt today was “farce.”