Tag Archives: poem about Donald Trump

Donald’s World (POTUS-Speak)

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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.

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.

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.

Peculiar Little Habits

 

Peculiar Little Habits

Peculiar little habits and peculiar little ways
help us pass away the hours and wile away the days.
When you enter in the door, close it exactly twice
to be sure the catch secures as solid as a vice.
Always check the doorknobs before you go to bed
to be sure the deadbolt  is completely dead.
Security is something that can’t be left to chance.
You must man the battlements and take a vigilant stance.
Do not invite strangers to wander through your home.
Give foreign folks and foreign thoughts no further place to roam. 


Seal your borders. Block people who

may be a different color from you.
Be sure that you have set a ban

on each thing unAmerican.
Burn our silks. Wipe out baklava.
While you’re at it, ban our Java.
Set up a refreshment jury
to vote on food like Indian curry.

Wienerschnitzel’s got to go.
Ban sushi. Nix gado gado.

Chocolate should be exorcised.
Ban music that’s unauthorized.
Raga, salsa and jungle beat
are rhythms we should not repeat.
America for Americans
is how we have arranged our plans.
Blood tests mandatory for sure
to make sure our blood is pure.
Send all the dark skins we have banned
to places not so tightly planned:

Prince Edward Island or Mexico
are places they’ll be forced to go—
places less pristine and picky
content to take folks slightly icky,
not perfect folks like you and me,
immaculate in our ancestry.
With endearing little habits, peculiar little ways,
we’ll wile away our hours and wile away our days
waiting for those foreign folks on whom we need to pounce,
doling out our safety by the pound, not by the ounce.

Picking fights with neighbors, casting insults at Korea,
twittering and ranting in a verbal diarrhea.
As it is above, so has it become below—
Trying to regress from what was once the status quo.
Truth becoming what we make it, in spite of evidence—
reinventing science by divine providence
Though we cannot lock out hurricanes or fires caused  by our blindness,
we have power to lock out sanity, ecology and kindness.
We’ll check our country’s doorknobs before we go to bed
and insure that all the deadbolts are completely dead.

 

The prompt word today is peculiar.

“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.

The Divine Right of Kings

 

The Divine Right of Kings
(How Politics Makes for Strange Bedfellows)

I need to know this, Mr. Trump. What world is it that you inhabit
where if you want it, it’s okay for you to reach out and to grab it
and never share with others the wealth that you’ve purloined?
Except, of course, with other rich boys in the clubs you’ve joined?

I need to know this, Mr. Thune. What God gave you the right
to draft a secret health bill that overlooks the plight
of those littlest sparrows God witnessed as they fell?
What soothes your conscience as you now consign them all to Hell?

Mister Ku Klux Klanner, once you remove your hood
and navigate in daylight your well-lit neighborhood,
how do you salve your conscience? The crosses that you’ve burned there
must surely also burn you, once they’re exposed to air.

What happened to those finer parts your mothers saw in you
that might have loved their playmates, be they black, Arab or Jew?
All that innocence and love, surely you must mourn
as you join that beast that crawls toward Bethlehem to be born.

Mr. Jung has taught us that we all have everything within us: light and shadow, male and female, good and evil, cruelty and kindness.  Those parts are not exorcised within us just because we choose not to exercise them. I wonder at the dreams of the seemingly pious souls mentioned in the poem above. Are they as completely sure they are right as they seem to be?  Are their dreams untortured, their consciences squeaky clean?

If you are unsure who John Thune is, he is a senior U.S. senator from South Dakota who grew up the son of a born-again Christian family who happened to live across the street from me.  They broke away from the Methodist Church to form the Community Bible Church, preaching solid Christian values, eschewing the evils of movies and dance and even television.  They unsuccessfully mounted a big campaign to forbid dancing at our school prom and produced a son who now aligns himself with Mr. Trump.  What would Jesus say, Mr. Thune? Would he reaffirm that politics makes for strange bedfellows?

 

Sen. John Thune (R-SD)

What he’s saying: A common complaint about the Affordable Care Act is that the law has caused premiums to spike, and Thune told Fox News this month that South Dakota has seen premiums rise 124% since 2013. The fact that roughly 85% of Obamacare consumers receive premium subsidies to defray these increases has received less attention from critics. The House version of the American Health Care Act would switch Obamacare’s premium assistance to a flat, age-based subsidy, a change that would lower prices for younger, healthier consumers but hit some older, lower income ones with premium increases of more than 800% by 2026, according to the Congressional Budget Office.

Biggest donors: At number three and $40,246, Sanford Health is the only healthcare name among the top five donors to Thune’s campaign committee; Nextera Energy comes in first with $52,000 and Blackstone Group is next with $50,097.

 Isn’t it the main idea behind health insurance that those who can pay and who are less likely to become ill cushion the load for those who are the most ill and need it most?

The prompt today was inhabit.