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.
by Rick Young | Feb 25, 2020 | Poem
The country seems so quiet, what with Air Force One away.
A peacefulness has settled in. He’s been gone but a day.
So Bernie’s free to pad his lead, contenders on their trails.
It seems it’s what the nation needs, a break from their travails.
He’s on the other side of earth; he can’t cause too much trouble.
Relax, be calm, use time as balm. He’ll return, burst this bubble.
His stay in India is short. He’s there to sell them arms.
A giant crowd cheers long and loud, a tribute to his charms.
He mentions his friend Pakistan, a local source of tension.
He mixes good things up with bad, as if it’s his invention.
Perhaps he’ll fall in love with India, extend his stay.
More likely he’ll miss KFC and fly back home next day.
In any rate, the day looks great. The sun seems twice as bright.
He’s notably a better leader when he’s out of sight.
