by Rick Young | Oct 14, 2020 | Poem
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 !
by Rick Young | Oct 12, 2020 | Poem
When Indians got in the way,
from the first invasion day,
there was always hell to pay.
Or maybe just some beads.
The natives gave their corn,
got nothing back but scorn,
torn, rounded up, forlorn.
But yet, no white heart bleeds.
by Rick Young | Oct 12, 2020 | Poem
She’s a registered fetus saver.
That’s her peculiar flavor.
No biblical contortion
says Jesus hates abortion.
But she’ll control your motherhood
by voting Roe v. Wade’s no good.
She claims religion won’t distract her.
Lifetime piety’s no factor.
She’s a woman just like you,
just spends more time in a pew.
Right wing Christians now rejoice
at the coming lack of choice.
No more need to picket clinics.
Fuck all those agnostic cynics.
Blatant unprotected bangers
can go back to using hangers.
Little girls who get the urge,
face the population surge.
Babies, babies, everywhere,
many now without health care,
since she’ll kill the ACA.
Reproduce. Have a nice day.
by Rick Young | Oct 9, 2020 | Poem
A busted billionaire out on the ledge
has drawn a crowd below; some holler, “Jump”.
For several hours now, he’s been on edge.
The tower he has climbed is branded “Trump.”
It’s one of many buildings that he owns.
All his claims of glory deal with money.
But now he has to pay off monster loans
from people who don’t think his act is funny.
The Russians clearly have him in their sights.
Records show the Chinese will soon follow.
The Saudis; lordy, he’s stretched very thin.
This pressure’s getting very hard to swallow.
His pleas for help from lawyers, thugs and God,
though blatant, have lately just gone unheeded.
Now he’s sick and whacked on steroid drugs,
a mark who can’t pay up, no longer needed.
But he’s a coward and will crawl on back
into the waiting arms of dreaded Feds.
He’ll rant and rave, insisting he is brave,
and blame his woes and troubles on the meds.
He’ll confess to crimes, name many names.
At this point he knows that he needs protection.
Abandoning his palace dipped in gold,
he’ll head off to a big house of correction.
by Rick Young | Oct 8, 2020 | Poem, Uncategorized
There wasn’t much suspense
in Harris versus Pence.
She had the upper hand.
He’s going to be shit canned.
And yet, he rambled on,
as if she’d up and gone.
She did a great slow burn
while waiting for her turn.
He flaunted debate rules,
treated the ‘girls’ like fools,
defended his great fascist boss,
played down the virus and the loss.
He piled them up, lie after lie.
But then, he wouldn’t hurt a fly.
by Rick Young | Oct 7, 2020 | Poem
I’m blocked by blatant blasphemies.
His dictator film fantasies.
He should have to pay disaster fees.
He tears the mask off,
with no breath to cough.
This movie must come to its end.
America is not his friend.
He’s got mutilation to spend.
And it’s never too late
to manipulate hate.
Anyone living inside
could be his diseased droplets bride.
A beautiful marriage,
and the wedding carriage
will drop you graveside when you’ve died.
