by Rick Young | May 25, 2022 | Poem
With all the sad news recently occurred,
sometimes sense of propriety is blurred.
On social sites, ignorance is the word.
They’re all wrapped up instead in Depp v. Heard.
Forget the cruel school shooting and the war.
And never mind Georgia’s primary score.
Ignore how baby food exists no more.
Let’s read about the film star and his whore.
Attention span is broken in this nation.
When something hurts, just find another station.
Forget about pandemic saturation.
Just jump on line and seek a new sensation.
Maybe Kim and Pete will tie the knot.
Tyler’s back in rehab; now that’s hot.
North Korea: ‘nother missile shot.
Musk will start a restaurant. What rot!
Who knows what it will take to make us see
we might be well erased by history?
Wake up! We’re on the brink of World War three.
Life’s not entertainment sent for free.
by Rick Young | May 23, 2022 | Poem
Bob Dylan’s eighty-one today.
A man who has a lot to say.
In Hibbing, where the poet grew,
was raised up Roger Maris, too.
The gopher city we must hail
also bred Kevin McHale.
But Bob became a restless beast,
took his guitar, headed east.
When Bob showed up in NYC,
the Village scene made history.
Folk and jazz and honky tonk.
Honk if you like Dave Van Ronk.
Later, when he electrified,
some thought his career had died.
But he wrote five hundred songs.
Some are even sing-alongs.
Many anthems of our ages
are found in his lyrics pages.
No singer’s been this exciting.
Won the Nobel Prize for writing.
Maintains his air of mystery,
even after age eighty.
Happy birthday, Mighty Bob.
You’ve done one hell of a job.
by Rick Young | Apr 30, 2022 | Poem
The last day of “the cruelest month,”
and still the war drags on.
Our super hero smells like Musk,
new Twitter Lord, Elon.
Meanwhile, in Colorado,
there’s a man who’s caught bird flu.
And at a California beach,
coyotes swim with you.
Boris Becker’s gone to jail
for bankruptcy deceit.
Suicide by U.S. sailors
has gone on repeat.
M.T. Greene’s “no recollection”
rings a warning bell.
If the right is not contained,
this country goes to hell.
Maybe May might change the tide,
but odds are pretty thin.
Fate has dubbed November
as our final chance to win.
Perhaps the summer weather
could perform some turnabout,
or else create more fires
that no water can put out.
by Rick Young | Apr 1, 2022 | Poem
Who’ll be the April fool?
Someone we thought was cool?
Someone who wages war?
Someone whose face is sore?
April fools thrive on showers,
don’t even care for flowers,
may have sought insurrection,
acted without reflection.
April fools think ‘play ball’
means hear the master’s call.
April fools will never say
what happened on that day,
hoping it goes away
any time short of May.
by Rick Young | Mar 25, 2022 | Poem
Judge Clarence Thomas has a big lie pushing wife.
This distraction has to matter, ’cause he serves for life.
The fact she’s for guns and against abortion
could mean he faces bouts of thought distortion.
It’s found she went to the pre-riot rally
and signed on to the fake election tally.
Can one imagine that her husband might
be swayed by her attachment to the right?
Should he be recused from some court decisions
which blatantly involve left-right divisions?
It’s hard to leave one’s private life at home
to change one’s thinking in the D.C. dome.
