by Rick Young | Apr 9, 2020 | Obit
Consider all the family’s been through.
They’ve died in cars, in planes and now canoe.
Some call the family Kennedy
unlucky as a clan can be.
Joe Junior went to war, his plane went down.
JFK ambushed in Dallas town.
RFK, election day, shot at hotel in L.A.
Seemed like no end to their misery.
John John junior’s plane went in the sea.
Teddy lived through two bad crashes
before cancer made him ashes.
Later relatives have died, accidents and suicide.
There was even talk about a curse.
This latest boating death just makes it worse.
Their name rings out in history,
garlanded by mystery.
One could say the family car’s a hearse.
by Rick Young | Apr 8, 2020 | Story
I’m not a worrier, but he gets slurrier
each and every time he speaks.
I have suspicion a tiny furrier
lives inside the hollow ‘tween his septum and his cheeks.
The way he stands has been explained
as a man who wears back braces and Depends.
No empathy. The man is pained.
But he’s leaking shit, it seems, from every end.
Won’t wear a mask when he is asked.
No rule has ever kept him off his path.
He goes about the things he’s tasked.
Don’t even want to think about his bath.
The way he reads, like a fourth grader,
reading from his book report on scams,
makes handlers note, a little later,
up his Adderall a couple grams.
And one last thing, his shoe inserts,
there to make him think that he is tall,
another reason he stays inert,
’cause one false step, the Orange Man will fall.
by Rick Young | Apr 5, 2020 | Story
Who elected Jared Kushner prince ?
It’s enough to make a fellow wince.
Who is he to spurt his t.v. garbage with a pout?
Tell us that he knows what COVID-19’s all about.
Ventilators are for feds, they’re not meant for the states.
Mincing like a schoolboy while his mind just masturbates.
All that flack on Hunter Biden’s profit in Ukraine
rolls right off the Kushners back, they’ve profit on the brain.
It’s revealed they have a stake in new virus web site.
Like all things in Trump’s family, this just does not look right.
A company called OSCAR, run by Jared’s younger brother,
is playing down its relativity, dodging for cover.
But there are voices screaming in the night on Instagram.
They say these guys are money deep in this pandemic scam.
It was a hoax to these vile folks until a profit loomed.
With Jared and Mike Pence in charge, it seems we might be doomed.
And if it’s true, there’ll be a special place for them in hell:
a fiery island kingdom called the Trump Hades Hotel.
by Rick Young | Apr 4, 2020 | Poem
Lone Ranger wore a black face mask and had a native slave.
He had a horse named Silver and he never missed a shave.
But Clayton Moore was quite a bore and wore masks after quitting.
You’re not the Ranger any more, they said. He said, You’re shitting.
Tonto’d back to Silverheels, old Jay hung with Lyle Lovett.
He bought a boat and set afloat, said, Kemosabe, shove it.
Hoppy, Gene and Roy lived on, with all their sidekicks breeding.
Sometime during every show, you’d see the horses feeding.
John Reid’s ranger brothers were all killed by Butch’s gang.
In his last wish, said, Cavendish, I’ll live to see you hang.
Then Tonto came to save him. And it all goes well from there.
Twice in each show, he’d scream “Hi-Yo” and Silver reared in air.
Some movies came, but we were jaded by the black and white.
O.K., he’d made a brave his slave; but still it seemed all right.
by Rick Young | Apr 3, 2020 | Obit
Almost a million jobs are gone.
I think it’s time to mow the lawn.
And where is my stimulus check?
I stayed inside, so what the heck?
I haven’t seen my friends in weeks.
Wind whistles through my hollow cheeks.
The raindrops are a welcome patter.
Nothing else now seems to matter.
Watching trees blow, wet and slick,
can make one forget the sick.
Images of death and dying
ought to keep one up nights, crying.
Never thought I’d see a plague.
Always thought Camus was vague.
Hoarding cans of food to eat.
Body bags are in the street.
There’s a navy ship at dock,
nurses working ’round the clock.
Bless the workers. They’re essential.
Fortitude is providential.
In their manmade cave inside,
all know someone who has died.
Every day the list expands,
writers, actors, men in bands.
As the world around us dithers,
just today we lost Bill Withers.
Life’s become a tragedy.
Tonight I’ll sing “Lean On Me.”
