Put me in your page.
Then I’ll grow grey with age.
I’m your bookmark.
Drop me on the floor.
That’s o.k., you got lots more.
I’m your bookmark.
Sometimes I’m substituted
for one more fitting to the theme.
I know that I’ll come back,
though laying in a stack.
Because caressing pages is my dream.
Give me dogged ears
that droop more through the years.
I’m your bookmark.
When I’m on your shelf,
I’m my better self.
I’m your bookmark.
Bill Barr’s House of Justice is exciting many fears.
They’ll execute a woman, the first in seventy years.
It makes a point that in some ninety days
his vengeance wing can hurt us many ways.
His army of ICE rubes and border haters
are dangerous as hungry alligators.
His serving on the big Thanksgiving platter
could be an intense heat on Black Lives Matter.
His present for the country Christmas season
could be arresting protesters for treason.
And on the time of power’s great transition,
we still have no inkling on his position.
If it’s “Katy, Barr the door,”
will it start a civil war?
We may need to call the Justice League
to end these four long years of Trump fatigue.
They found the lemur who was kidnapped
from the Frisco zoo.
He roamed a park in Daly City,
early-voted, too.
He was pleased, part of the group
called “Lemurs Against Trump.”
If he could free the meerkats,
Biden would get quite the bump.
All zoos are a hotbed now
of Democratic zeal.
Many caged love AOC,
fans of her Green New Deal.
From penguins to gnus,
you’ll never hear much about Trump.
The only time they shout his name
is when they take a dump.
Trump and Barr are falling out
and may break up as well.
The A.G. failed to jail Barack,
and now can go to hell.
Big Bill worked hard to prop him up.
but now he’s let him down.
He’s worried, and his Flintstone face
now wears a constant frown.
He doesn’t want to get the boot,
the Sessions walk of shame.
He knew the rules, that if you lose,
you’re kicked out of Trump’s game.
So, after Barr, he can’t look far;
there’s no time for a quest.
To gain some votes, pick some big star.
The Yeezy, Kanye West !
I heard of a herd
that swallowed a word
that led them downhill
into a mass kill.
Their lives were o.k.,
but not so today.
Went down in defeat.
And now they’re just meat.
Dead dreams on American buns.
Bodies piling up by the tons.
It’s everything the master always craved,
endless tombstones with his name engraved.
I heard of a herd
who thought words absurd.
Who summoned the will
to march back uphill,
their lives to retrieve.
The master must leave.
The land will revive.
And love can survive.
New notes in our country’s songs,
promising to right our wrongs.
A healing world, a brighter sky.
We mourn the souls who had to die.