I’ve suffered through the Ukraine war,
pandemic and inflation.
The world’s in such a fragile state,
we all need a vacation.
So, wrap me up in shower curtains.
Seal me in a box.
I didn’t come all this long way
to die of monkeypox.
Could only take ten minutes in the sun.
I’m old enough to know when my skin’s done.
And then, there were the ants,
and me, out in short pants.
All I could do was sing the blues,
and shoo them with my flip-flop shoes.
The outdoors is driving me inside.
Indoors, with cats, I easily abide.
It takes one bad burn to wake.
And I know my skin won’t flake.
The steeper the grade,
the more one needs shade.
Those little round age spots
are all solar made.
Go inside and dream a lake.
Read, write, rest and maybe bake.
Murder chat rooms on the internet
draw one in to crazies not yet met.
Videos of bloodbaths filmed for fun.
Cartoons of a shooter with long gun.
Bobby’s last post was of a beheading.
He’ll get revenge for years of bed-wetting.
With auto rifle he climbed on a roof,
shot random paraders as a goof.
Dead were folks from eight to eighty-five.
Thirty more he wounded might survive.
Captured after uneventful chase,
his mug shot shows sad young sicko’s face.
Reed thin and quite tattoo decorated,
he finally took aim at what he hated.
Called himself a rapper named “Awake,”
strove to cure America’s ‘mistake.’
Though he was a Cub Scout as a kid,
it seems there was an evil side he hid.
When message boards and 4chan brought him out,
he flipped to a much darker side, no doubt.
And so, in Highland Park, he met his fate,
deciding July fourth was the right date.
He put a murder show on for the news.
Too late now were social media clues.
And when the police tracked him down,
he meekly laid out on the ground.
Bobby Crimo had his say.
Seven people dead today.
Kill the filibuster.
That shit has lost its luster.
The next step is abort
the current Supreme Court.
Then take back Roe v Wade
and start to throw some shade.
Come down on Gaetz and friends
who all seek evil ends.
Boebert and M.T. Greene,
and that whole Big Lie scene,
must be erased with haste, not grace,
for this country to change its mien.
Kafka woke to find he’d turned to Putin.
“To hell with all these bugs, let’s start some shootin’!”
Though Metamorphosis was on his brain,
he opted instead to attack Ukraine.
Killing civilians might be wrong and vile,
but he had not one thought about a Trial.
But Franz felt waging war became a hassle,
and wished that he was back home at the Castle.
Transition was a worrisome occurrence.
He wished he’d go back to selling insurance.
War and its hell turned out to be a bother,
worse than his relationship with his father.