Tag Archives: Political commentary

Donald’s Time Out

Donald’s Time Out

Everyone knows that you reap what you sow.
This platitude’s spoken wherever we go.
And when it is cotton you bury so deep,
It’s also true that you’ll sew what you reap.

You must get despondent when things don’t go right,
for the seeds that you’ve sown are what you must bite.
If you plant bitter melons, you’ll meet with defeat
if sweeter fruit is what you want to eat.

Whatever is planted at your behest
is what you will yield at your own request.
Whatever you’ve buried will rise to the top.
nt actions will yield a kind crop.

But harm done to others, you’ll likely rue,
as the other one acted upon will be you!
You are part of the world where you’re planting your seed,
and you’ll bear the brunt of your terrible greed.

It’s a different dark harvest the world is now reaping.
It’s been getting a foothold while you have been sleeping.
As you wielded your golf clubs, its roots have spread wide.
It lifted its branches as millions have died.

It crept out of cages as children bemoaned
the fact they were hungry and cold and alone.
It was watered by rivers poisoned and polluted,
as reason was smothered and good sense diluted.

So reap your cruel harvest. What fate is now serving
is certainly what you have long been deserving.
So you’ll sit at the table until you’ve diminished
the junk on your plate, and once you have finished,

please clean up the beaches and oceans and air,
for the evils you’ve planted have spread everywhere.
You’ll sit at that table until you confess
your part in creating this terrible mess! 

Pull your chair to the table and eat ’til you choke.
The evils you’ve done are more than a joke.
The fruits of your labor have made a vile stew.
Please forgive us if we refuse dining with you!!!


Words of the day are harvest, despondent, benevolent, behest and difference. Image by Joyce Romero on Unsplash.


Bad Fortune

Bad Fortune

A superfluous excrescence  to our sinking ship of state,
of all our past mistakes, I’m sorry to relate
that this uquiet jester is our biggest flub to date–
a fact that many voters cottoned onto way too late.
But if you seek a formula for change, there’s no debate.
Vote this fool out of office before he seals our fate!

Prompt words today are quiet, formula, jester, excrescence and past.


The Lowest of the Highest by Default

The Lowest of the Highest by Default

He was a homeless jester, a contentious feisty gent.
He shed a sense of triumph everywhere he went.
No amount of scorn and no superior air
ever contradicted his shabby debonair.
In a stovepipe hat, overalls and a tux jacket,
he played his mobile xylophone, making such a racket
that folks rushed out to pay him just so he would quit.
He felt no sense of shame in this, for he took pride in it.

He had the perfect racket. He felt he counted coup—
raking in the dough for what he didn’t do.
He had a fridge crate penthouse on a tower labeled Trump.
(Also a little pied á terre across town at the dump.)
Highest of the highest and lowest of the low—
his main address  the finest though he had so little dough.
The key up to the rooftop he had scored out of a pocket
right after the janitor had gone up there to lock it.

He snitched a maintenance uniform and in the helter-skelter
of a tenant’s moving day, filched his plywood shelter.
It made a perfect domicile obscured in a back corner.
As a joke, on its front cornice, he wrote, “Residence of Horner.”*
But he dragged it to the rooftop’s front when the day was done
and had a view of city lights that was second to none.
You may think that he’s a shyster and the building’s lowest resident,
but only since the former lowest tenant became president!


*Little Jack Horner sat in the corner eating his Xmas pie.
He stuck in his thumb and pulled out a plum and said, “What a good boy am I!”

Words for the day are homeless, contentious, jester, amount and triumph. Image by Donald Teel on Unsplash, used with permission.

Trump Wishes Ghislaine Maxwell Well. Again???

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In an interview with Axios political reporter Jonathan Swan that aired on HBO Monday night, President Donald Trump once again spoke about Ghislaine Maxwell, who was recently arrested for alleged child sex trafficking in connection with deceased financier and convicted pedophile Jeffrey Epstein. Two weeks ago, Trump, who knew Epstein and Maxwell socially, caused an uproar when he wished Maxwell well. On Monday, he doubled down on the well-wishes for Maxwell, but first, Trump appeared to question the charges against her.

“Mr. President, Ghislaine Maxwell has been arrested on allegations of child sex trafficking. Why would you wish such a person well…” Swan began before being cut off by Trump. “Well, first of all,” Trump said, “I don’t know that.”  “She has. She’s been arrested for that,” Swan responded. “You know that.”

Epstein was found dead in his cell last August in an apparent suicide amid suspicious circumstances that have caused many to question if he’d actually killed himself, or if he was murdered. Trump seemed to imply that his well-wishes for Maxwell are due to the suspicion surrounding Epstein’s death, and the fact that she now finds herself in a similar situation.

“Her friend, or boyfriend, was either killed or committed suicide in jail. She’s now in jail,” Trump said. “Yeah, I wish her well. I’d wish you well. I’d wish a lot of people well. Good luck. Let them prove somebody was guilty.” “Oh, so you’re saying you hope she doesn’t die in jail?” Swan asked. “Is that what you mean by ‘wish her well?’” “Her boyfriend died in jail, and people are still trying to figure out, how did it happen? Was it suicide? Was he killed? And I do wish her well. I’m not looking for anything bad for her. I’m not looking bad for anybody. And they took that and they made it such…” “I mean, she’s a child sex—alleged child sex trafficker,” Swan interjected. “…such a big deal,” Trump continued. “But all it is, is her boyfriend died. He died in jail. Was he killed? Was it suicide? I do. I wish her well.”

Check out Axios on HBO at hbo.com/axios.

Look HERE for every photograph of Trump and Maxwell together.

Who Needs an Election?

Who Needs an Election?

Our perfunctory president is not in any hurry
to pack his suitcase.  He’s a rat that’s unequipped to scurry.
Unready to give up his throne., he thinks we are in need
of his gross incompetence, his racism and greed.
How could his teeming vassals unseat their liege-lord now?
How dare his noble lackeys desert their sacred cow?
Are they in their right minds, seeking to end his power?
Must he desert his White House and make do with his tower?

His orange countenance grows pale. His comb-over descends.
He thought that he would rule our world ’til he was in Depends!
If he could only change the rules, how great that it would be
to play his “Trump,” enabling him to found a dynasty.
First Junior, then Ivanka could inherit his domain.
What other tyrant is equipped to take over his reign?
This liberty these fools taut can’t hold a candle to him.
His light is needed now the torch of liberty’s gone dim.

No need for an election. The world’s too dire for that.
He’ll gladly serve another term growing sleek and fat.
He’ll sack Social Security and supplement the riches
of all the moneyed classes. Never mind the foreign bitches
who have swarmed into the congress. Send those tawny women home—
the sacred halls of governance better suit a gnome
who carries golf clubs as his scepters and overlooks derision
to fuck the whole damn world according to his crazy vision.

“Heil Trump,”  his swastika’d supporters chant. “And damn the Jews!”
“Crucify the liberals,” is shouted from the pews
of those for whom religion is being blindly led,
forsaking what is written in favor of what’s said.
As lambs led to the slaughter, let us bleat and blindly scamper
after all the rich men that we were born to pamper.
We do not need good health care, let alone good food or shelter.
Long Live Trump! Who cares if the whole world goes “Helter Skelter?”


Prompt words are unready, perfunctory, racismscurry and suitcase. Image  from Unsplash, used with permission.


What Is Going on in Portland

As told by Christine Henderson at the Justice Center in Portland:

Everything you are seeing on the news about Portland is a lie.
The first thing you notice down on 3rd in front of the justice center is how clean and untouched almost everything is. The Elk statue is down, but only one bldg is sprayed with graffitti. Just one. The streets are clean, Lounsdale park and Chapman square are clean. Mark Hatfield square is untouched and so is city hall. Where the elk was is now a mound of dirt. I understand why it was set fire now, but I’ll explain that in another post.
The second thing you notice is how it smells – the marine air in a summer breeze, wafting along with the scents of burning sage, pot smoke and bbq ribs. It smelled like a summer picnic in Portland and that was the general atmosphere tonight too.
People were waiting, milling around chanting, and then they came, marching from the Salmon St Springs – the yellow wall of moms. A roar of respect from the crowd went up. Everyone applauded. The moms marched up 3rd and took position in a line in front of the justice center. More people came and now a crowd was formed in front of that building too.
Two small blocks, two small parks. That is the sum total of where everything is happening. The city isn’t trashed, isn’t on fire and it didn’t feel like a war zone tonight.
There were a few hundred people when we arrived, and a couple thousand when we left:
Someone had balloons, some people carried signs, a few drummers drummed, a guy on a skateboard was handing out squeaky pink rubber pigs he carried over his shoulder in a fishing net. There were medics and water stations. Some people were waiting for bbq.
The line of moms and the crowd by them were louder and their chanting seemed more organized. At the N graffitied bldg it was quieter, less people and the mood seemed more resigned to whatever the later night might bring. Some first nations people were kneeling there chanting and burning sage. A line of young people with plywood shields knelt, waiting patiently for god knows what. A black guy walked up and down reminding people to be calm, not to riot, and not provoke the feds we knew were inside waiting to come roaring out. People, including me, walked in and out of the pilars looking at the graffitti. I went to the doors and quietly told them to get out of our town. I could feel their eyes watching me behind their plywood barricade. I am sure they heard me and if they did, I’m glad.
The graffiti is beautiful btw. It needs to stay: as a reminder of what civil disobedience looks like.
The last thing I noticed was the absence of the ppd. There were no police barricades and no police lined up for kettling the protesters.
It all felt a bit surreal, but this whole year feels surreal.
We left at 11pm out of prudence.
I am getting too old to get my head bashed in, and we did not know what the later night might bring. More people were arriving as we left, but as of this writing at 1am I still have heard no flashbangs echoing up the hills to my house.
So if you have imagined Portland is in chaos, trashed and burnt to a crisp, stop. It is nothing of the kind. One building has spray paint on it. That is all. And that certainly does not warrant an invasion of hired nazi fed goons. They need to leave..now.
Image may contain: one or more people, tree and outdoor, text that says 'FUCK FEDS YOU, TRUMP GO HOME'