by Rick Young | Jul 31, 2020 | Poem
The virus, as our leader said
has disappeared like magic.
It took a while, a lot of dread,
and, in the end, was tragic.
As millions died, the countryside
was dotted with mass graves.
There was no place one could hide.
Not even Jesus saves.
Though few remain, they do sustain
and have faith in our leader.
He shows them nothing but disdain,
unless they are a breeder.
He wants to start the world anew,
a populace of Barrons.
And women, he will keep a few,
especially the Karens.
by Rick Young | Jul 30, 2020 | Poem
Delay the election ’til the virus settles down.
Vote count will be easier with so few folks around.
The good folks who elect me will be only the immune.
Perhaps I’ll turn the country into just one big commune.
Not like Easy Rider or the wacky Manson thing,
but just a bunch of rich men who will all my praises sing.
I’ll travel through our great vast land and be put up in castles.
They’ll favor me with fortunes and I’ll get to rape the vassals.
The Isle of Epstein, just one stop on my best pleasures tour;
we’ll have stops in Agra, Baghdad, Kuala Lumpur.
I don’t want to rule the world. I’m not a power slut.
I just want to make sure in the end I get my cut.
by Rick Young | Jul 28, 2020 | Poem
He’ll protect our federal buildings at all cost.
Without his help a courthouse could be lost.
And when one courthouse goes, they fall like dominoes.
So, that’s why all that tear gas needs be tossed.
He said he doesn’t read his boss’ tweets.
He’s just too busy cleaning up our streets.
ANTIFA’s set their site on violence every night.
But his stormtroopers stop their dire feats.
Whatever Donald asks of Bill, he’ll always heed the call,
whether it means busting heads or guarding that damned wall.
He’s always been a puppet of the man with orange hair.
His twisted sense of justice is it needn’t be all fair.
And, as for the election, he’ll ignore all interference.
So, vote and make sure he’s tossed out in this November’s clearance.
by Rick Young | Jul 27, 2020 | Poem
Protestors used as speed bumps has become a current thing.
It’s not just nazi rebels who have gotten in the swing.
Right wingers are now saying run them over with your cars.
It’s something to do of a night while they’ve closed down the bars.
They’ve even made some jokes on line, like being late for work.
Some claim it’s not against the law, even one police force jerk.
In fifty days, there were reported seventy-plus crimes.
In some cases, drivers backed up, tried a few more times.
Some arrested, neo-nazis, klan fans and the like,
can’t be trusted on four wheels, or two wheels, or a trike.
The studies show they come in waves, so beware of tsunami.
As weeks go by, the Constitution’s turned to origami.
by Rick Young | Jul 24, 2020 | Poem
He’s got the kung flu fever
and it’s starting to get hot.
You want a war with China ?
I think we’d rather not.
But they killed my great economy!
It never was that great.
They bought my corn and then gave scorn!
Well, there is that debate.
He’s dropping hints like old chopsticks.
We don’t know quite what for.
Munitions makers lick their lips.
It’s called ‘The New Cold War.’
The consulates are closing.
Pompeo’s in a snit.
Our policies today have ‘failed,’
He’s shoveling deep shit.
Spying, hacking, plague producing
territory claimers.
FIRST THE ACCUSATIONS FLY,
THEN WE’RE ALL IN-FLAMERS.
by Rick Young | Jul 23, 2020 | Poem
“Person, woman, man, camera, t.v.”
“That’s the way to live successfully.”
How do I know? My big test told me so.
What do I know? The law tells me gung ho.
I’ve got the brain to take down all these anarchists and thugs.
It seems I’m coping better with my new dementia drugs.
I realize now my tie should not be hanging to my knees.
I wipe my nose with my face mask most every time I sneeze.
I’m getting COVID-tested at least several times a week.
At least that’s what they tell me when they stick things up my beak.
They say they don’t know how I keep all these things in my head.
I play them back whenever I get off in Lincoln’s bed.
When at the resolute desk, I’m the absolute king shit.
If I should go, they’ll find my name carved several times in it.
This two-term thing has a bad ring. I’ll sign in an extension.
My royal family says elections suck, pay no attention.
Like F.D.R., I’ll be a czar, borne everywhere on litters.
I’ll bring back sports and execute the kneelers and the quitters.
Our country will ally with Russia, with parades and pomp.
It’s my great dream to turn the whole damned world into the swamp.
