by Rick Young | Sep 27, 2019 | Poem
He’s the Houdini of politics,
makes clean breaks from his dirty tricks.
He even makes his words just disappear.
He’s emptied out his cabinet,
yet some will reappear and bet
that he can get them through another year.
“Orange Magic,”
his new slogan should read,
a slight-of-hand commander
whose only love is greed.
He escaped from the Mueller cage
and quelled the pussy furor.
He’s either nuts or in a rage.
He might turn to a fuhrer.
Orange Magic
is often painted red.
He makes his mitts gigantic,
but only in his head.
Our one last hope is he’s exposed
as nothing but a trickster.
And who could ever have supposed
he’d be worse than the Dickster?
Orange Magic
cloaks evil with his habit.
Let’s all hope that Warren
can turn him into a rabbit.
by Rick Young | Sep 12, 2019 | Posthumous Additions, Song
I love you more than stomach trouble,
Double Bubble or the Hubble.
More than guacamole dip, sit and sip, chocolate chip.
Even more than ham and eggs, cribbage pegs, chicken legs.
Let it be said I love you
more than pools of Mountain Dew.
More than brand new pairs of sneakers
or plush toys with inside squeakers.
More than baseball, more than dice, more than Grey Goose over ice.
Even more than rock on vinyl, I love you and that is final.
Valentines, like Groundhog Day, one more hitch to grab your pay.
Show your love by spending loot. Throw it down the honey shoot.
Everybody kiss and hug. Give her diamonds, you big lug.
Show your heart is in your wallet. Love extortion’s what I call it.
Cards and candy, hearts and flowers, nods to advertising’s powers.
////this could be reconfigured or a refrain extracted? Perhaps titled “Love Extortion” or “Ad Hock”//////////
Love’s extortion is the potion of the day
by Rick Young | Sep 7, 2019 | Poem
To say he is slow on the uptake
might actually be too kind.
To hint he is fast on the downdraft,
he’d be the first to remind.
The wind blows IOU’s around him.
The clouds are his own Bergman short.
He once had to stamp out a geyser
and force a typhoon to abort.
He made many mountains from molehills
and taught of the dread windmill whine.
His only expertise was red bills
and whether the ducks were in line.
No shadow can cover his glower.
His menace is seen in his wave.
Some fools think that they are in power,
when, really, they’ve been made a slave.
