Blue Cake for Orange

Happy Birthday to you, from the people you slew,

from the generals exploded to ER’s overloaded.
Your ignorance viral threatened all our survival.
You should have gone home when impeached.
But now, like a whale bleached and beached,
you’re thrashing in seas swirled with peoples’ unease.
Your every solution seems instead dissolution,
your every conclusion inept. No promise kept,
You watched as folks wept. Hate abides.
You said there was good on both sides.
You love your rebel lore. We know not quite what for.
With blacks out of sorts, you won’t re-name forts,
you really don’t think black lives matter.
You show by your lies there are folks you despise.
It’s all mixed inside your daft patter.
Despite your mistakes, we’re mailing you cakes,
a nice gesture until you find
they’re all of the urinal kind.

Grunt Style

Just saw an ad for “grunt style” clothes.

They’ll push the army up our nose.
It’s bad enough troops in our streets,
and they’re not there for meet-and-greets,
but now we have to wear their duds,
and flounce around like Elmer Fudds?
There’s little charm in army fashions,
’bout as tasty as C-rations.
Olive green and basic black,
fresh off Uncle Sam’s clothes rack.
“Oh, Sarge, you look so fine to me.
What is that look called, infantry ?”
We know that rugged men like camo.
Gives them pockets for their ammo.
In certain states, accessories,
like M-15’s are bound to please.
But here comes a fashion warnin’,
can’t tell civvies from the sworn-in.
Countries become very scary
when they turn all military.
People, please consider class.
And shove that “grunt style” up their ass.