by Rick Young | Feb 23, 2020 | Poem
Bernie’s coming on like a socialist gangbuster.
He’s like a mix of Larry David and old Mr. Bluster.
It’s good that kids, who watch their vids, have got behind this boomer.
He’ll smash the oligarchy and had harsh words for the Bloomer.
They say his early praise of Sandinistas might be slighted,
but this new world of social media is quite near sighted.
What have you done today, they’ll ask. I’ll conquer a dictator.
That’s cool, they’ll say, go have your way, we’ll check in with you later.
If he can tear down walls and has the balls to check this king,
the world will be a Bernie paradise and kids will sing:
“O, white-haired one, here comes the sun, the world’s back on its axis.”
Here come free school and health care, cool, paid for by rich men’s taxes.
And if VP is Warren, she can carry on his torch.
A brand new generation can toast them from their front porch.
by Rick Young | Feb 22, 2020 | Poem
The King of Fraud thinks he is god.
No law or rule can touch him.
Amazing how the lurching clod
persuades his mass to clutch him.
His wispy wig and paint-on tan
are awkward and appalling.
He does his thinking on the can
where his great bulk is sprawling.
He bleeds his friends, destroys his foes,
and lies to every side.
The last time that he touched his toes,
was back with his first bride.
He squandered millions on bad deals,
black-listed by most banks.
But Russian mobsters heard his squeals,
and now he owes them thanks.
We’ll be paying off his loans
for several generations,
scraping meat off mercy’s bones
for his gross machinations.
King of Fraud, your throne is gone,
been sold off for hush money.
To think they thought you were god
is sad but somewhat funny.
You’ll spend your old age in a cell
outside a prison tower.
We hope each minute there is hell.
And watch out in the shower.
by Rick Young | Feb 21, 2020 | List
Seeing news, I note he just gave “Parasite” a kick.
Think he wanted that title for his own bio-pic.
I’m sure we can probably find a better one than that,
a monster name like “Hairwolf” or maybe “Frankenfat.”
A song title, perhaps, like Bowie’s “Man Who Sold the World,”
or something native like “White Scalp with Nylon on it Swirled.”
Maybe one that’s lots more fun like “Toilet Paper Trailer.”
Or, “If It Weren’t For Bone Spurs I Would Likely Be A Sailor.”
How ’bout ” Squandered All the Billions My Rich Daddy Gave Me,”
or the catty “I will do Bill Barr if he will Save Me.”
I like “Mail Order Bride Magnet,” think it’s got a ring.
Then there’s “Get Out of Jail Free, As Long as You Don’t Sing.”
“Nero Two” does not quite do, but “Caligula” might,
though it translates “Little Boots,” “Tiny Hands” is more right.
Perhaps “The Furor” or “The Sniffer” sound a bit more gangster.
Or aim for anti-Mister Rogers, “Kids In Cages Prankster.”
Of course, he might go biblical and choose “The Chosen One.”
Or lean a bit toward mystery, like “Times Square, With a Gun.”
Branding him is like a swim, can go in all directions.
Blatantly, what we don’t want is “I Stole Two Elections.”
by Rick Young | Feb 21, 2020 | Poem
Roger Stone just got his sentence. Forty months for lying.
He’ll be out before too long, though, for not testifying.
He’s the Joker deep inside the president’s dark cave.
Barr’s the Riddler, Rudy is the Penguin and head knave.
Ivanka is Catwoman and her husband’s Mister Freeze.
The two sons are the Trigger Twins, kill anything they please.
If Bernie could be Batman, and Liz or Pete his Robin,
perhaps they could clear out that cave, and overthrow King Gobbin.
If not, our Gotham as we know it could well cease to be.
Left with just a spotlight searching for democracy.
by Rick Young | Feb 20, 2020 | Poem
Some nutcase in Nevada’s gluing MAGA hats on pigeons.
Next year this might be basis for many new religions.
Please, Bernie, Liz, Pete, Amy, Joe, agree on a consensus.
Or people caught not wearing hats might be encaged by fences.
Get the glue and whips out, too, dissenters locked in stocks.
While the barker tweets their shame from inside his gold box.
They had their chance to do his dance and entertain his court.
Now they will be apprentices in his new deadly sport.
Someone who bleeds, gets on his knees, and begs might get a pardon.
More likely still, he’ll be roadkill beneath the White House garden.
