by Rick Young | Aug 27, 2018 | Uncategorized
Mowers and crowers are waking the tired.
It’s Monday morning: get up or get fired.
It’s just the start of a very long day.
Grass must be cut and then birds fly away.
Come Tuesday morning and things might be quiet.
But for the nonce, it’s a bird and blade riot.
by Rick Young | Aug 3, 2018 | Uncategorized
Let the dusk take the day,
let the night wash away
all the hours of sadness and doubt.
Like a dirty old shirt,
we’re awash in work dirt
and we can’t leave ’til they let us out.
We must turn into shadows
and hide in the trees,
let the breeze and the seas build our map.
First we’ll split into sevens,
and then into threes
and we’ll leave one behind as a trap.
No, they’ll not find our bones
and they won’t trace our phones,
we won’t leave behind any I.D.
Then we’ll grow into nines
and do great things with vines.
We’ll be out on our own history.
by Rick Young | Jul 11, 2018 | Uncategorized
I won’t say Brett’s the last straw,
and straws are out of favor,
but this last week has rubbed me raw,
think I’m in mental labor.
No meals on wheels, back alley deals,
to hell with geriatrics.
Those liberals with their whines and squeals,
they’re nothing but theatrics.
The wall is real, it’s no big deal,
it’s more a great illusion.
And Brett’s a guy who’ll really try
to douse news of collusion.
He’s worked with crooks like Bush and Starr.
He’s Yale, so, Skull and Bones.
And, if our ruler is a czar.
We’re screwed. Shut off your phones.
by Rick Young | Jul 6, 2018 | Uncategorized
Pruitt ain’t gonna do it
to our environment no more.
He’d kill a forest,
just plow right through it,
and use as dump the ocean floor.
But he got greedy, and much too needy,
for fancy lotions and soft beds.
He cared more for his super phone booth
than the sky above our heads.
No doubt that fracking
enjoyed his backing
and he does love his dirty coal.
Pollution standards
he gave up tracking.
And there is no ozone hole.
But now he’s gone, but not forgotten.
He’s made a tidy getaway.
There are no jobs for men this rotten,
‘cept perhaps at Chick-fil-A.
by Rick Young | Jun 27, 2018 | Uncategorized
He took the ‘tweeners to the cleaners.
He just couldn’t be much meaner.
He’d start a fight and then he’d walk away.
You’d think that that was it, but not so with this shit.
He’d stab you in the back some other day.
An artificial mullet and an undercover gullet
made him feel big, despite being so small.
He’d blow and blast the news.
He’d say he’ll save the jews.
He’d tell us that we need another wall.
He drove away good friends for monetary ends.
He says to hell with earth, sky, air and sea.
Our land will be his park, with curfews after dark.
His rule is the low point in history.
