by Rick Young | Jun 3, 2020 | Poem, Posthumous Additions
Feel sorry for the bible.
Him holding it seems a lot like libel.
Gas the peaceful protest horde
for p.r. shots on twitter board.
Unleash the army on D.C
as if he’s facing anarchy.
Aren’t people still dying of his plague?
As his smoke and bad jokes make things vague.
The countries who now laugh at our misfortune
have all been victims of his vast distortion.
It seems more certain civil war is in his plans.
He’s got the guns, the bad A.G. and insane fans.
He sees himself flying away like wild Rhett Nero,
his number forty-five slashed through, surrounded by a ZERO.
by Rick Young | Jun 2, 2020 | Story
He’s killed a hundred thousand,
now he’s hiding behind one.
He told us from the start
he could shoot someone with a gun.
We thought that was hyperbole,
and gave it ‘what the heck.’
But now here he is kneeling down
on half the country’s neck.
He’d kill us all, just look at him.
You’ll see it in his face.
The only thing he needs to do
is spare his loyal base.
The white supremes and Boogaloos,
this country’s underbelly,
are seen with arms at protests
if you just turn on your telly.
The MAGA boys and lock-up girls
are all hot air and smarmy.
But underneath their cover lies
a snarling racist army.
He plays to crowds of people
whom he wouldn’t even touch.
And yet they do his bidding
like they need his evil crutch.
If vote-by-mail does not sail,
this could be our last election.
Defeat this clown or we go down.
Faster than One Direction.
by Rick Young | Jun 1, 2020 | Poem
These riots cause diversion
from our first, worst aversion.
The king is pouring gasoline
on everything that’s not the queen.
No one starts a greater fire
than the first world’s biggest liar.
First he’ll tell you it’s just smoke.
When you burn that’s, like, his joke.
Fire starting has its reason.
It’s the best cover for treason.
Anyone who drops a dime:
heat’ll get them every time.
With a sheriff like Bic Barr,
protesters will not get far.
There’s some good in every crowd.
Don’t decry his crimes out loud.
Look, there go some left wing looters!
What if they burn down a Hooters?
Bad for the economy.
He can’t stand autonomy.
Cops kill blacks is one allusion.
Covers up his own collusion.
It’s a standard real time show.
Much as was his quid pro quo.
Nothing can’t be hidden, so,
set ’em up again, please, Joe.
by Rick Young | May 27, 2020 | Poem
A pop-up map, 100G, with color code vicinity.
This guy will raise the stakes into infinity.
How soon before it’s turned into a lottery?
Prepare your urns and best invest in pottery.
So let his golfing stand as Our Great Pun.
In crimes sans passion, he is number one.
Considering the damage he has done,
if he’s released /unleashed, long may he run.
by Rick Young | May 26, 2020 | Story
O gather thee now, Wall Street traders of death.
But, before work you must sign a waiver,
in case on the floor you do take your last breath,
no recompense can you then savor.
Go shouting your numbers and capital gains,
the NYSE crowd way thinner.
Who said to make money you have to have brains?
The stock market’s always a winner.
And why, in this time of the country’s demise,
does the Dow Jones continue to rise?
The answer, of course, should come as no surprise.
The players are rich and the game is their prize.
