by Rick Young | Jul 2, 2016 | Uncategorized
Ah, the cat speaks in riddles,
egged on by the birds of summer.
He screams for food some fifteen times a day.
He counts the seven doors and sixteen windows,
licking and scratching his numbers on them all.
He suggests that this cage of a house should be
cleaned, expelling a hairball to make his point.
Suddenly he’ll spy a clean pant leg, and dash
his paintbrush body up against the cloth.
Then he’ll moan he’s tired, jump into the nearest
chair, and promptly fall asleep.
by Rick Young | Jun 28, 2016 | Poem
Command control has seized the blue puddle.
All inhabitants are sworn to secrecy.
Thus ends a stressful string of twelve aborted missions
and a flurry of inactivity deemed painfully inappropriate.
All aboard will receive a fearsome medal
and a reluctant handshake from some retired quasi-hero.
No one can know the boundaries of this secret undertaking.
Maps and codes were, of course, delivered by hypnosis.
Everyone wore masks derived from Penny Marshall films.
And the trail of evidence was always covered with sequins.
This spate of colorful waters will no longer be tolerated.
Swimming and splashing have given the region a bad name.
But what that name is can never be revealed.
And the history of this action will be sealed for many years.
by Rick Young | Jun 26, 2016 | Poem
Once there was a president who was, in fact, insane.
He thought that the office was meant only for his gain.
His head looked like an orange and his hair looked like a pelt.
His best debating tactic was to hit below the belt.
He made fun of the crippled and besmeared any detractors.
Race-baiting and name-calling were his most defining factors.
He said he’d build a wall to keep the foreigners at bay.
I’m smart, I’m rich and one tough bitch was all that he would say.
And, like a vigilante, his great posse rallied ’round.
America the great became his toxic proving ground.
He got himself elected with some sleight help from the mob.
And when he was sworn in he said, "I’m gonna like this job."
He loosened up the gun laws and made voting laws much tighter.
His White House goal was more control to make the country whiter.
His economic policies rocked Wall Street on its heels.
And underneath the table he was making shady deals.
As, one-by-one, we lost our allies to his madcap schemes,
He criminalized freedoms, from protests to jests to dreams.
He made a world of enemies and pushed them to the brink.
Don’t worry, he said, I will tell you how to act and think.
When finally, backed to a corner by his crazy whims,
He said, "Hey, world, don’t fuck with me, I’ve got ICBM’s."
He’d taken our beloved freedom-based enlightened nation
And brought it to the brink of nuclear annihilation.
And these were his last words from just before the world expired:
He pressed the bright red button, laughed out loud and screamed,
"YOU’RE FIRED !"
by Rick Young | May 24, 2016 | Poem
Gonna take a ride down to Toxic City.
All the algae blooming there’s considered rather pretty.
Everything is glistening and slimy to the touch.
Particles float in the air. Try not to breathe too much.
Best to wear a plastic suit and mask upon your face.
Despite all its drawbacks, still, it’s quite a vivid place.
Animals that roam the streets are of an unknown breed.
Only plants that grow there now are called the devil’s seed.
Once a week a tour comes by inside an armored truck,
people taking photographs of creatures in the muck.
Toxic City’s on the map, but circled in bright red.
All its former residents reportedly are dead.
by Rick Young | Apr 11, 2016 | Poem
Baseball’s back, it’s truly spring.
Crack of bat and fastball zing.
Diamond dirt and outfield green.
It’s a time-remembered scene.
Pleasant memories of youth.
House of David. House of Ruth.
Ground out, pop-up, long fly ball.
In the stands or off the wall.
Called third strike right on the black.
Three-oh green light, back, back, back.
Bullpen up and working hard.
Can they keep him in the yard?
Rookies, vets and walk-off hits.
Knucklers and big catcher’s mitts.
Batter’s up and life is good.
Hear that horsehide meet that wood!
