by Rick Young | Mar 28, 2017 | Posthumous Additions, Song
Pooh, pooh, Putin.
He’s got our poor POTUS scootin’
Pooh, pooh, Putin.
Our election he’s rebootin’.
Republicans are now his dupes.
He’s got ’em jumping through his hoops.
The money that’s been changin’ hands
could fund twelve heavy metal bands.
Pooh, pooh, Putin.
His horn our president is tootin’.
Pooh, pooh, Putin.
Our treasury he’s surely lootin’.
We’ve promised him a sanctions lift.
Consider it an orange gift.
He’ll open up new lines for oils.
And we will divvy up the spoils.
Pooh, pooh, Putin.
Our groper prez his horn is tootin’.
Pooh, pooh, Putin.
He says that sharin’ sure beats shootin’.
The future’s world wide autocrats.
On this doomed ship we are the rats.
Republicans are gross and stinkin’.
Stop them now before the sinkin’.
Pooh, pooh, Putin.
For his downfall we are rootin’.
Pooh, pooh, Putin.
We’re allergic and he’s gluten.
by Rick Young | Mar 28, 2017 | Poem
Trapped inside, like water.
Outside, chain link and barbed wire.
Concrete mesa and rock ledge.
Broken glass and bottles thrown
from on high. A wave of pulsing oil.
Here comes a train again.
Lost dogs, guard dogs, devil dogs.
Red-eyed and hungry.
Screamed languages unheard,
almost as in song.
Forever chased to dead ends.
Rumors of a river downhill.
If only just one door to knock upon.
Long ago there were friendly faces.
In the times before the glass pipe.
by Rick Young | Mar 23, 2017 | Poem
He wandered into a fantasy of the prairie,
a silver spoon child with such a cute scowl.
He was going to be a cowboy, a spaceman,
a pirate. Pirate was in his genes.
He won all the Monopoly games because
his crying and tantrums made other options
much too painful for the players involved.
He said, "Big blocks good." He loved adjectives.
He would mumble, "Pretty, pretty," as he
stroked the skin of thin young women.
He had trouble reading and cheated at math.
He had no friends and he scared his enemies.
He bullied and lied his way into power.
His handlers claimed his tantrums
made him more interesting and ‘real.’
He pulled many strings and broke promises.
And yet his hangers-on hung on.
He was orange. He was red. He was fuzzy.
He was a muppet in wolf’s clothing.
by Rick Young | Mar 20, 2017 | Poem
Develop your dexterity
in practice of sincerity.
Achieve internal parity.
Such balance is a rarity.
Resolve the mind’s distortion.
Remove outside extortion.
Learn how to reapportion.
Become one with Frank Gorshin.
by Rick Young | Mar 19, 2017 | Posthumous Additions, Story
(Note from the author’s son regarding this email excerpt: Sorry, Mom…)
And here’s my written piece of the week, deemed too inhospitable for the blog by those I’ve asked (ie your mom):
Top Ten Black Metal Band Names
___________________________
10. Purgatory Amos
9. Viagra Falls
8. Clock Shuckers
7. Hell Toupee
6. Cher Croppers
5. Ho Downers
4. Corrodeo
3. Beaver Damned
2. Princess Die Anthrax
1. Den Motherfuckers
Honorable Mention:
Cod Peace
Sausage Lynx
Gore Text
Four Hour Election
Nun Of The Above (NOTA)
