by Rick Young | Mar 2, 2020 | Poem
Amy joined the race in a snowstorm.
Now she’s dropping out in a shit storm.
She joins a list of famous Minnesotans,
all of whose candidacy was verboten.
Harold Stassen, Gene McCarthy, Hubert Humphrey, all
lost but none were quite so bad as Walter Mondale’s fall.
Now she’ll throw support to Joe,
then go back into the snow,
root for Vikings, Timberwolves and Twins.
Back to Senate she will trod,
hoping against hope, by god,
that the person we have chosen wins.
by Rick Young | Mar 1, 2020 | Poem
Here comes the month-long countdown to the final four.
Good bet that Kim will be there, Don and Vlad for sure.
But who will win that final spot’s a matter of opinion,
in the final bracket that determines world dominion.
Saudi’s bin Salman gets tough when all is on the line.
He’s even chopped up journalists, dissolved in alkaline.
Turkey’s Erdogan is probably best known for his purges.
He’s an anti-semite with great autocratic urges.
Asad of Syria gets many Putin torture tips.
He’s on the edge and uses chemicals instead of whips.
Venezuela’s Maduro is an extreme long shot,
thug behavior and corruption’s about all he’s got.
All will be revealed in the final game in June.
Winner gets to go to Mars, loser gets the moon.
by Rick Young | Feb 29, 2020 | Poem
This whole year can take a flying leap.
It’s not even March and we’re neck-deep.
Neck deep in scandal, sham and scam,
a presidential flimflam man,
his appointees all unproven,
but, unto a man, behooven,
following his unhinged screed,
seeking power, moved by greed.
Perhaps we should use this extra day
meditating, praying him away.
In our country’s ashes burns an ember.
This cruel year could end in mid November.
We could celebrate a cabinet clearance,
if we can stop outside interference.
Then, again, if he is once more chosen,
all our great land’s assets will be frozen.
Things might get too horrible to mention.
Four more years is beyond comprehension.
by Rick Young | Feb 28, 2020 | Poem
The paste on his face is mostly lead-based.
He wears it as a shield and as a mask.
But don’t try to touch it; he’ll have you erased.
You might as well not even ask.
The white ’round his eyes is like a disguise,
a negative of a raccoon.
It has the effect, what with his bloodshot eyes,
of making him look the buffoon.
If one were to come into contact with this,
seek immediate medical aid.
Some doctors have said even blowing a kiss
could cause a severe health downgrade.
It’s best in his presence to stand three feet back,
in case of a sneeze or a cough.
When his makeup flies, it pollutes the skies,
and you just can’t get that shit off.
by Rick Young | Feb 27, 2020 | Poem
There’s no talk in today’s news about stealing elections,
which, in turn, prompted this look into some news selections.
The stock market is reeling after COVID-19 drop,
while our great leader continues to spout his toilet sop.
“Must get better flushes, shower heads that clean my hair.”
And while the virus spreads, he doesn’t seem to really care.
America is safe now that he’s put Mike Pence in charge.
The iron white just might put those infected on a barge.
The weather’s coming ’round, this time of year the ocean’s pretty.
Or, better still, drop them off at some sanctuary city.
Another item says poor children pick our Starbucks beans.
Not bad ’til you find what “poor” in Guatemala means.
Tennis great Maria Sharapova has retired.
Former Egypt dictator Mubarak has expired.
Drag queens slam Republicans for banning their events.
This sounds like another job for “Mighty” Mikey Pence.
Baltimore’s ex-mayor gets three years in kids’ book scam.
Super Bowl halftime pole dance made prudish viewers scram.
China may use ducks to fend off present locust swarm.
Scientists explain why planes land sideways in wind storm.
And so, apparently, election cheating has subsided.
This wouldn’t be the first time that by news we were misguided.
by Rick Young | Feb 26, 2020 | Poem
He's got NDA in his DNA.
It’s just the way he likes to play.
Take off your clothes, do not disclose,
sign on the dotted line.
I’m no bachelor, you’re no rose,
just drink a bit more wine.
I’m not saying you’re a slut,
just want to keep your damned mouth shut.
A nothing tryst, you get the gist,
one night and then forget.
I’ll add you to my growing list
of things I like to pet.
Speaking of pets, girl, you’re no bunny.
Your bod’s an eight, your face is funny.
You should be glad I had my way with you.
And if you say a word, be sure I’ll sue.
I’ve had my share of porn stars, strippers,
older women, some young nippers.
You’ll learn to wear your shame one day
just like a badge of honor, say.
Now you must leave at once, my dear,
before the wife returns.
The bruises that I left will fade,
as will those red rope burns.
