Red Tin Noodles

This White House will undoubtedly go down in history.
The president’s our first ever to be on PCP.
The madness doesn’t stop at that; it’s all been quite consistent.
The vice president named a fetus to be his assistant.
The presidential spokesman had a problem with his rage.
And the chief advisor had been said to kill a page.
Education’s secretary never went to school.
Head of double talk was either batty or a fool.
Secretary of state’s favorite state was in Ukraine.
Chief of HUD was slow as mud, delay built in his brain.
Security adviser was dismissed and judged a spy.
Attorney general, once a racist, now says that’s a lie.
Even the first lady model once posed in the raw.
Administrations ministrations just defy the law.

Current fake news outlets are reporting
our good spies with their bad are comporting.
They say this chicanery ‘cross the ocean
violates some democratic notion.
They don’t recognize that in these times
government needs leeway for its crimes.
Liberals are up in arms and churled,
whining all about a ‘brave new world.’
We say they had best give us our say,
or we may have to put them away.
Our good God cannot this nation bless
and abide their fancy of free press.

While inside the ring of this existence,
one must rely often on persistence.
Without it and some loving insistence,
there will be no way to go the distance.
Yes, life is like a fight to do what’s right.
To succeed, you must keep goals in sight.
In your time before the final bell,
do what’s in your heart and do it well.
When you find yourself backed to the ropes,
keep in mind your path, your dreams and hopes.
If you’re down, then get up off the floor.
Courage to go on is at your core.

Can one in fact remember the green fantasies of youth?
And then tend to dismember the last tree lines of the truth?
Can hope and despair wallow in the cauldron of the blood,
As witches of the soul predict dread ornaments of flood?
Can anybody tell us where an island might appear,
When all about the waves of doubt no sign of hope draws near.

Charles Dickens wrote "A Christmas Carol," thus Scrooge was embedded.
Sir Thomas More became a saint, but first he was beheaded.
Eubie Blake composed and played the piano in a ragtime way.
Eddie Bracken, comic, starred and sang in films and on Broadway.
Sinclair Lewis wrote "Elmer Gantry" and "It Can’t Happen Here."
Miguel Ferrer, long-time actor, "Twin Peaks" vet, died just this year.
Buster Crabbe, olympic swimmer, played Tarzan and Buck Rogers.
Burt Hooten was a pitcher, mostly for the Cubs and Dodgers.
Alfred Adler was a famed Austrian psychotherapist.
Steve Nash, Canadian, was Suns guard best known for the assist.
John Deere made equipment history inventing his steel plow.
James Spader started out in movies but is on t.v. now.
An Wang is a famed inventor and computer engineer.
Garth Brooks is a country phenom, often artist of the year.
Ashton Kutcher, actor, took Demi and Mila as his choice.
Emo Phillips was a stand up comic with a silly voice.
Jeff Van Note played center for the Falcons, five pro bowls to boot.
Isaiah Thomas, Celts’ guard, is short, but he can score and shoot.
Laura Ingalls Wilder had her Little House on the Prairie.
There was no submarine reliever like Dan Quisenberry.

The Indians will pay for the pipeline.
Cleveland is, of course, possessed by gangs.
Bomb the glaciers and tax the water.
Please pull to the curb and be searched.
Mexico will pay for the Alamo.
Bowie will not have died in vain.
Drill until it hurts and stop the trees.
Bow to the flag. Wear your pin prominently.
Since when do we protect stinging insects?
Austin will pay for its housing of sinners.
City limits will be strictly enforced.
The no-fly zone has become the fly zone.
Religion will be compulsory.
Chicago has been traded to Canada.
There is no defensible excuse for sarcasm.
Please leave all possessions on conveyor.
The homeless will be busy building walls.
Get your hat on now or just get out.

His public image is limited, indeed.
His hair is a physical disturbance.
There’s a question as to whether he can read.
It seems his main emotion is perturbance.
He’s pissed off the Aussies and latinos.
He’s insulted women and mocked vets.
His realm is built of hotels and casinos.
He’s got these tiny hands that look like pets.
He’s Donny Rotten, not soon forgotten.
He’ll build a wall and put you into camps.
He’s Donny Rotten, who loves globetrottin’.
And some say he’s the cause of stomach cramps.

Steve Bannon is the sludge in my liver.
If bad was teardrops, he would be a river.
Every time I think about his Breitbart News,
I get a sudden bad attack of alt-right blues.
Says he idolizes Satan, Vader and Dick Cheney.
This is more than odd, dude, it’s apocalyptic zany.
To give this man a say in shaping our national security
is giving knives to suicides, disaster is a surety.
Though many have protested, it seems yet the Rump insists
on filling up his cabinet with white supremacists.
But amongst the generals and the multi-billionaires,
Bannon is the evil sore thumb pick who really scares.

The pointed teeth of doubt
are nibbling away
at my soul’s achilles tendon,
causing a moral limp.
I’m afraid I won’t be able
to catch up with god
in the big race.

That’s a dirty dog ball,
please don’t pick it up!
Lord only knows what kind of germs
might reside in that pup.
No, no, no, my son,
don’t get that near your face!
You’ll get some strange dog disease
impossible to trace.
Oh, my God, did I just see you
lick that with your tongue?
You’ll wind up in the E.R.
inside an iron lung.
Maybe you are right; it can’t be
any worse than paste.
Pass that dog ball over here
and let me have a taste.

Dragged on down the morning hill by shadows,
the waking songs of love grind us to tears.
So much happens when we’ve got our heads turned.
A sudden silent burst of birds appears.
Bone bare branches wave the clouds like traffic.
Footsteps timed and hands held, we sashay.
Rocks, stones, pebbles, sand, ground all approve this.
Missing stars affirm: gray is okay.

The year of the rooster
could be like a rocket booster,
a launch into the perilous unknown.
What with the selection
of a crude orange erection,
we’ve lifted off into the twilight zone.
A strutting bandy tweeting unto dawn
with billionaires surrounding him to fawn
could turn this lunar year into disaster.
He’ll stock the farm with nukes
and fill the coop with kooks,
a game of chicken in which he’s the master.

Please don’t pull the plug on your sick llamas,
or blame their poor health on the Obamas.
Dress them up in their finest pajamas
and then send them off to the Bahamas.
Animals do quite enjoy vacations,
especially those in other nations.
They gain some awareness of their stations
and vastly improve imaginations.
They’ll return in somewhat better health,
having spent up your entire wealth.
But you must approach them with some stealth.
‘Cause they likely brought you back seashellth.

If you look to your right,
you will see much bigger buildings,
some oil wells, large vehicles producing
‘harmless’ emissions, nuclear facilities,
a well-armed police presence, strong displays
of military might, golf courses, tennis courts
and plush homes with gates, pools and dogs.
Now look to your left and see what’s left.
Deteriorating cities and infrastructure,
public transportation, ‘shady’ people
in alleyways looking for drugs and abortions,
military vets out on the streets, homeless
shelters and food kitchens, polluted waters,
crime waves, rogue cops, smog and dogs.
We’ve already got a wall. Front and center.
And even a street named after it.

Alienation’s trending big time.
The bad boy’s in his house of glass,
throwing shit at everything he sees.
What is the problem, buddy?
You’re the king. And the joker.
Every night he’s got to use the poker.
He’s got the ego of a warship.
The Oh No La Gay !
Atomic strength ticked tax.
He’s dreaming up new facts
for his attacks. He wants us all
to wash his windows for chump change.
But, buddy, we have breaking news for you.

It’s a scene that’s truly hard to fathom.
Oath of office on those lying lips.
History has turned to science fiction.
Aliens are laughing in their ships.
In his first speech from the seat of power,
will he throw in ads for his hotels?
No one could envision this strange hour.
Something rotten in D.C. now smells.
Will he spew his fake news to the masses?
Will his family have a bridge to sell?
They’re the royals. We can kiss their asses.
Wave the world goodbye. We’re now in hell.

Crack open all those eggshell eyes
and let the dammed tears flow.
There must be a gallon full
of sorrow.
As a child once said to Shoeless,
"Say it isn’t so."
Our world will change,
not for the best, tomorrow.
Dark clouds are coming in
to hide the blue skies.
The winds of change already
start to blow.
Remember, when you’re asked
to do insane things,
the option’s always open to say no.