Crap-casting Rogan and Young-loving Streamers

Crap-casting Rogan and Young-loving streamers

Fact-blasting moron, artists and dreamers

Free speech and fact breach, they dance and they stab

Truth in the morgue on a cold marble slab


Drip-drying wet naps on Vin Diesel’s Daisy

Popcorn and Pepsi with Martin Scorsese

Grifting and grafting on quaaludes and blow

Gaetz in sex traffic with nowhere to go


Oath Keeping Proud Boys, soldiers in waiting

“My Pillow hucksters” gaslighting and baiting

Fascists and fucktards fall from the sky

Democracy’s gone in the blink of an eye


Hopscotch and whiskey, Sorry and Twister

Rebellion and UNO with Vlad Putin’s sister

Records and transcripts get flushed in the can

Truth getting trumped by a fat orange man


Cow tipping junkies and pill-popping tweakers

Political flunkies in loafers and sneakers

Gazpacho Goosestepping Capital cops

Malevolent Marjorie, she never stops


Fuck headlines and deadlines

Bread, milk, and inflation

The next time you vote

for the soul of your nation

Carry integrity into the booth

Raile against liars

and vote for the truth

February, in the Warmth of the Morning Sun

I found a dead ladybug

on the sill of my window today

Just a few days prior

I witnessed her flying around my bedroom

and wondered,

trapped inside my sunny domicile,

with frost on the windows,

did she long for the warmth

of late summer days

and leafy plants on my kitchen patio?


She was a lifeless faded orange

hard, shiny, and smooth

her legs tightly tucked

into her flat underside

I slid her on to a piece of printer paper

carried her down the staircase

that goes from the bedroom to the kitchen

and placed her gently in a potted plant

in the warmth of the morning sun

Chrome Covered Rosebuds and Dyslexic Daisies

Chrome covered rosebuds and dyslexic daisies

Dirt-devil divas and wombats with rabies

Blue bloodless fem-bots

that drop from the sky

Misogyny dies in the blink of an eye


Dipshits in red hats with white MAGA letters

Grunge bands with new tats of Cobains and Vedders

Palm trees and face plants

a rip in the sky

Ginger loves Mary Ann’s Coconut pie


Deep-seated distrust and misinformation

Biscuits with deadbolts and sex doll inflation

Mad rants and just cants

a flask full of lies

The truth falls asleep to our sad lullabies


Sinatra and Martin, Carson and Rickles

Bone chips on blood-stained pennies and nickels

Douchebags and despots

About to ally

To map out our lives on the wings of a fly

Fearing Life

Life

A crooked path before us

 A ragged race we run

A 9-to-5 grind-to-dust

To keep pace with everyone


We take some time to breathe

A few weeks every year

Before getting back to life

That’s often ruled by fear


Fear about finances

Fear about jobs

Fear about COVID

and Fascist-led mobs


Fear about terrorism

the Taliban and ISIS

Fear for America’s Democracy-crisis


Fear for our planet

increasingly warming

Fear of our fear

which is constantly forming


When emersed in fear

We don’t live our life

The roses and sunshine

Give way to our strife

And we just live to survive

On the edge of a knife

Because this is all there is

When you reach the end

I hope you had more good times than bad, 

laughed more than you cried, and

loved more than you hated


I hope regrets were few,

achievements many,

and that your wealth

could be measured in smiles


I hope you enjoyed your stay,

were buoyed by happiness,

oxygenated by love,

and were at peace when you left


Because this is all there is

Relentless Time Regardless

time

We begin life nervously

Waiting in the wings

Queued up and ready to take center stage

Each of us a fragile link

in a fractious chain of humans

We embark on a quixotic quest

for meaning and connection


The thought of our transience

evades us at first

Or maybe we just refuse to let it creep in

We keep those thoughts at bay

We bury them under daily routine

for years at a time

Until we begin to sense

the slowing of the merry-go-round

and we see and feel

the snarled and toothy grin

of the carney worker

All rides must end


We lean hard from our painted ponies

Elbow pit married to the pole

We reach and stretch for the brass ring

And it’s promise of another ride

As if more ride is a cure-all

 it isn’t

As if more time will sand the jagged edge

of disappointment and regret

It won’t.

We don’t need more time.

We need understand how little we have of it

Donny Shakes the Jar

Donny Shakes the Jar

Donny stirs the pot

Donny knows that hate and fear

are really all he’s got


Donny peddles lies

He feeds them to his friends

They eat’em up

And spit them out

The cycle never ends


Donny knows that facts

are a death knell to his game

He always tries to bury them

And set the truth aflame


Insurrectionists as martyrs

And the freedom fighter lies

“A fraudulent election!”

His fake-ass battle cry


He’s got minions on the take

And congress in his pocket

FOX to help him spin the lies

Vlad Putin in his locket


We need Guardians of democracy

To fend against attacks

From Donny and his hateful gang

Of red hat wearing hacks


When you’re forced

to use fear and hate

To bolster your position


To inspire acts of violence

and treacherous sedition


And when you do so

For vainglory and the

Insatiable lust for power


Expect a mass gathering

To knock you from your tower

Blocked and loaded

Lately

when I try to write

Nothing comes of it


Just raspy thought-schisms

That fail to take hold

They fizzle and pop

And disappear

in a wisp of blue smoke

Leaving me

With faint and fading echoes

in the empty chambers of my brain


Mornings used to be

My fruitful period

Now they’re as dry as the Sahara

Coffee used to be

a thought lubricant

Now it’s just gasoline

for a stuck and revving engine


There’s a constant buzzing

a negative counterbalance

A marshalling of malevolence

To block the words and spill the ink

I’m waiting for a clearing

A splash of light

On an open field

Of possibility

The gift of an old dog

Through slightly cataracted eyes

 A glint of happiness flashes

As I reach for the leash

That hangs from a hook

On the back of the door


Your nails

Plastic-like clicking

on the hard wood floor

less sprightly than it used to be

but still, I associate that sound with joy

and I suppose I always will


We’ve engaged in our daily routine

For nearly a decade now

the wag of your tail

a little slower

your teeth tanning with age

are rounded and smoother


from pearly whites

to tiger’s eye

they tell the tale

of you and I


The pace has slowed

(for both of us)

but you still relish the ritual

Nose to the ground

Intently sniffing clover and dirt

Thistle and weed

The base of every tree and mailbox

a puzzle of smells

as you try to solve the

mystery of the previous day’s events


I used to tug at your leash

after a minute or two

 when you were younger

And I was less patient


measuring my time

In meetings

and phone calls

Not frisbees

and thrown balls


But today I give you

all the time you desire

Because I don’t know

how many more walks

we have left in the bank

and a tug now

seems unwarranted

bordering on criminal


Sometimes the wind kicks up

And you raise your head

Towards that gift-bearing breeze

wistfully smiling

it seems to me


When we get back

you drink cool water from your bowl

Find your bed

which has been warmed

by the afternoon sun

And lie down


Tired and content

You close your eyes

then open them

and then close them again

slower and slower

eyes open, eyes shut

 until finally

 you settle into a rhythmic rest

I will miss you when you’re gone

Sometimes

Sometimes

it’s a struggle

just to keep my eyes open

I feel anxiety’s weight

Resting fixed

like a fishing lure

that’s been dropped

in the dead-center

of my thoughts


Sometimes

I hear the clock ticking

I feel the pages turning

Knowing that most of my days

Are in the rear view

A fast-approaching horizon

through the windshield


One eye on the road

I fumble with the radio dial

Musical snippets and static

Trying to find that perfect

Sequence of songs

Before the ride ends

That’s the goal