by Rick Young | Oct 22, 2020 | Poem, Posthumous Additions
He’s been stewing many hours
on Barack’s brutal takedown.
So, tonight, he’s got two hours
to run a Bad Joe shakedown.
He’ll have explicit videos
of Hunter with crack whores.
A masterpiece of cut and paste.
Is that Diana Dors?
He’ll run with Rudy’s flaccid tips,
so recently exposed,
as intel fed through Russian lips.
He didn’t sleep. He dozed.
As time creeps by, we’ll sit and die,
waiting for his eruption.
By hour two, it’s clear
this is a trial on his corruption.
Expect the sweats, strange alphabets,
and syntax taxed unfairly,
a lot of pointing, deft disjointing.
Insane rating: Barely.
by Rick Young | Oct 22, 2020 | Poem, Posthumous Additions
(Note from the author’s son: I found this title-only draft and felt compelled to publish it – with the date he last edited it.)
by Rick Young | Oct 22, 2020 | Poem
If they turn on his mute button,
Trump might take to wire cuttin’.
He’ll shout over poor hoarse Joe,
echoing his, “No! No! No!”
In two minutes silent time,
just imagine what he’ll mime:
Hunter Biden with crack whores,
Sleepy Joe’s nuclear wars.
And perhaps he will have signs,
hold them up between Joe’s lines,
like: “Antifa Founding Member,”
and “He’ll be dead by December.”
Trump will do his current dances,
causing comas and fear trances.
Even with their covid spacing,
Trump might start his feral pacing.
So, to mute, or not to mute.
With Trump, all precaution’s moot.
He will not accept restraint.
Mister play-by- rules, he ain’t.
There’s a way to stop him seething.
Treat the man as if he’s teething.
One thing only stops this liar:
KFC sauce pacifier.
