by Rick Young | May 24, 2020 | Story
Lord, bless the germs within this pew,
and hope that casualties are few.
This virus makes the pious wary.
Who knew hymns could be so scary.
Because the wafer stock is thin,
the hosts’s hydroxychloroquine.
And there’s a substitute for wine,
bleach or something alkaline.
Congregation lambs to slaughter.
Wash your hands with holy water.
Pray that God has you protected.
Half the church will be infected.
by Rick Young | May 23, 2020 | Poem
I-phones, drones and lovely bones.
Wandering sand-distance police.
Keep your mask on in the surf.
Stay ten feet apart at least.
Don’t touch seaweed, don’t pet crabs.
Look out for the sharks.
Swat at anything that grabs.
Don’t go near the body outline marks.
by Rick Young | May 21, 2020 | Poem
Little yellow trumpet bells, Rocket Cress by name,
found beside familiar roads, sunshine is its game.
In the mustard family, cabbage’s moist cousin,
let it grow to flowering. You might want a dozen.
Some consider it invasive, find its presence nervy.
They may not know that the cress was once used to cure scurvy.
When its family gathers, it is quite a great array.
Bok choy, turnips, broccoli and rutabagas, hey !
Rocket Cress, God has blessed you with great diversity,
but a taste so bitter, kids hate universally.
“More for us,” the grownups cry, “bring on the collard greens.”
And mustard seed,” cry those who like to frequent hot dog scenes.
by Rick Young | May 19, 2020 | Poem
This president’s a rascal,
a lot like Eddie Haskell;
he certainly has Beaver on the brain.
He’s taking medicine unproved,
behavior surely not behooved.
It’s further proof the man has gone insane.
The drug is for malaria,
and now he’s caused hysteria.
The public bought his bleach tips the last time.
Hydroxychloroquine is now seen as a win.
If people die, his advice is a crime.
Some say he’s dumb as a rock,
but he probably has stock
in the company that makes this drug.
If it turns into disaster,
you won’t see a person faster,
sweeping evidence under the rug.
Some say perhaps he is lying,
totally unfazed by dying,
as long as he lives to rule the world.
He is like a dragon hiding,
when the people do his biding.
If not, watch his vicious wings unfurled.
by Rick Young | May 17, 2020 | Poem
The White House staff is wearing masks.
They’ll do whatever the boss asks.
He, of course, will still wear none.
Must remain the ‘chosen one.’
Even Jared, Kernel Kush,
must obey the face mask push.
Bill Barr wears the only one he owns.
It’s emblazoned with a skull and bones.
Ivanka sports a decorator line.
It encourages “Just Die, Don’t Whine.”
Kellyanne’s shows a dead cupid,
printed below: “I’m With Stupid.”
One man’s mask says “Don’t Blame Me!”
He’s our hero: Doc Fauci.
