Tin Soldier
Petulant child, in a bit of a snit,
pooches his lips out. He’s having a fit.
He sets up tin soldiers in orderly rows.
Where they will be fighting, not even he knows.
Fast through the air, his tweets swiftly whistle,
delivering threats like an ICBM missile.
He casts insults northwards and south over borders
to Mexico, Canada and other quarters.
He’s saving his friendships for other bad boys.
With each fawning message his keyboard deploys,
he wishes their power were his for the taking.
Korea and Russia—what plots in the making.
His attention span just long enough for his tweeting,
he blusters his way through each conference and meeting.
Many are gap-jawed, yet nothing gets done
concerning disarming this smoking gun.
He’s expressing his own sort of odd concentration
by impounding children, expressing elation
that this will now curb illegal immigration.
How long will we let this man screw up our nation?
Daily Addiction’s prompt today is Gasp! What better to cause us to gasp in the news today than our self-serving president’s recent horrendous action?
Update: okcforgottenman commented and added this video, which feels appropriate to this post.
If you want to hear testimony of those who have witnessed this separation process and to hear the voices and reactions of children as they are being taken from their parents at the border, then to be taken through a process by which you can easily reach congresspeople who can do something about it, go HERE.
You’ve probably all seen this very gracious editorial in The Star (Canada) that is a response to the recent visit of some Americans’ president, but just in case, I’m representing it here:
https://www.thestar.com/opinion/editorials/2018/06/12/dear-america-come-on-up-we-still-like-you.html
It shows that there are still some gracious, generous commentaries left in our charged-up world. And that the whole world doesn’t hate us for losing control of our country, somehow. Some of us are trying to get it back again. Bought but never sold!!!
Birthright
He felt it was his birthright and she felt it was hers
to only wear designer lines from underwear to furs.
Their schools were the finest. Their cars were Lamborginis.
They lunched on finest caviar and supped on steak and blinis.
Each Saturday brought manicures and plucked-out nasal hairs.
On Fridays, deep massages to tone their derrieres.
Since they never did a lick of work, they never had to hurry.
Everything was done for them. They had no cares nor worry.
When times demanded action, they sat up on their shelves
hoarding their petty worries and tending to themselves.
And when the celebrations declared the war was done,
our cloistered privileged duo came out to join the fun.
But alas they were not recognized. They didn’t know a soul.
Locked up safe in their houses, they’d had no plan nor goal
for defending all their property inherited from kin,
but now the world was set aright, they claimed it once again.
They restarted their factories, and things were as before
as those returning soldiers labored to earn them more.
Another old year fades away and as the new year waxes,
they’ll find another way of avoiding paying taxes.
They leave to others the taxpaying, the soldiering and toiling
because it is their birthright that they should not be soiling
their hands with any tasks unbefitting to their classes.
They’ll leave all the laboring to the teeming masses!
(Addendum)
And since of this fine nation he is such an honored resident,
perhaps he’ll step it up a notch. Perhaps he’ll run for president!
The Daily Addictions prompt is Birthright.
Skewed Liberty
Everything is tilted. Slightly unaligned.
The constitution set askew. Liberty maligned.
Some of the well-heeled citizens think that this is fine.
They cannot see that everything is slightly out of line.
All the pretty Philistines queue up at their tees
while their flunky lawyers determine what to seize.
Contracts with the Russians. Schemes to sell off national land.
Cronies helping cronies. Off-shore drilling by demand.
Rivers being sullied and oceans compromised
while insuring rights to bear arms are exercised.
Certain pious preachers line up behind the svelte,
proclaiming to the masses that they know what Jesus felt.
Indeed, the smallest sparrow no longer matters much
so long as all the mighty increase their greedy clutch––
all the moneychangers, corrupt to the core,
filling all their pockets with the money of the poor.
Surely it is clear that at ruling they’re inept,
and if he was watching, surely Jesus wept
as all the pearls of liberty were cast before the swine
with each self-serving libertine declaring what is “mine.”
What is true no longer matters. What “they” say is now what now counts.
They say it’s holy scripture as they settle their accounts.
People, take off your blinders. Consider what is real.
One nation, under God, was not set up for them to steal!
The WordPress prompt today was skewed.
Naughty Boy
Donald met a speed bump. They’ve hung him out to dry.
He can’t understand for he is an upstanding guy.
He’s everybody’s hero. His daughter tells him so.
He has a stunning hairdo. He has plenty of dough.
The charges that they’re making? It’s clear that they’re just jealous.
This is what a POTUS gets who’s handsome, smart and zealous.
He sneaks down the darkened hallway. He knows it’s somewhere here.
He finally finds the kitchen. He knew that he was near.
They’ve locked the fridge and cupboards to protect him from assassins,
but he knows where keys are hidden and how the fridge unfastens.
He creaks the door wide open and sees it on the shelf—
the gallon of fudge ripple just waiting for himself.
He grabs a spoon and shuts the door. He locks it and he’s off,
betrayed by not one footfall, one heavy breath or cough.
He almost makes it back to where he can gorge undetected.
When all at once a flashlight warns he’s soon to be inspected.
It’s not the secret service that has caught him being naughty.
It’s worse! It is Melania standing stern and haughty.
Sheepishly, he takes his ice cream cache back to the kitchen.
A rumbling tummy preferable to her eternal bitchin’.
Tomorrow he’ll slip off to his favorite namesake arches.
Mcmuffins always compensate for midnight thwarted marches.
Three with Sausage, one with bacon should be the proper ration
To fuel this self-proclaimed hero as he messes up the nation.
Melania
The prompt: write a poem in which a villain faces an unfortunate situation, and is revealed to be human (but still evil).
Donald’s World
It seems reality’s been hacked.
The dice are loaded. Cards are stacked.
Truth is no longer so exact.
Actuality’s been cracked
and reason pilloried and racked.
Verisimilitude is yacked
and common sense has long been sacked,
along with logic, reason, tact.
So what’s been rumored, gossiped, quacked
is now more true than proven fact!
The prompt word today is fact.
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.
Enlarge all photos by clicking on any photo.
Staying Afloat
The days my life is not erratic
are the days it is too static.
I need an leavening in life—
a lessening of loss and strife—
that doesn’t store me in the attic.
Retirement is not intended
to designate a life as ended.
I’d like some fun and some pizazz
aside from knitting and Shiraz.
I’d like my salad days extended.
Turn off the news. Turn up the notes.
I prefer hearing what emotes.
There is coverage enough
of Donald Trump and other stuff.
I’m tired of inane Twitter quotes!
Bring in the band and serve the drinks.
One’s only as old as she thinks.
I’ll move my body, move my mind.
(True, my brain more than my behind.)
For what is static is what sinks.
The prompt today is static.
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.
lifelessons - a blog by Judy Dykstra-Brown 