Whopper, As In Trump

You say you’re selling what? Dude, 

Us cats here don’t need no fresh bait 

 

To get hooked, we can smell 

Something fishy a mile away.

 

And you know what?  

You got all it takes. 

 

 

 

https://www.commondreams.org/news/2022/10/13/about-damn-time-jan-6-panel-unanimously-votes-subpoena-ex-president-donald-trump?utm_source=daily_newsletter&utm_medium=Email&utm_campaign=daily_newsletter

 

 

 

 

Great Wavering Expectations

Poor, ambivalent souls, 

When the first torrential 

 

Waves of doubt start raining 

Down round you, will you be 

 

Running for cover before 

They hit parched earth, 

 

Or will you simply stand 

Your ground under them, 

 

Wide-eyed and open-mouthed,

Crying as if you were

 

A newborn baby.

 

 

 

Twilight: No Time To Waste

“It is thanks to my evening reading alone

 that I am still more or less sane.” 

 --W.G. Sebald, Vertigo 

 

If this is still indeed 

The case, as it certainly looks 

To be, we must all make haste 

And have our heads examined— 

Preferably more—instead of less. 

 

 

 

Poem Written To Condemn Random Acts Of Poetry Day, October 6th

There should be nothing 

Random (or senseless either), 

About writing poetry— 

 

One should come to it forcefully 

Purposefully, with all their senses 

Intact and if possible,

 

With a hell-bent-for-leather 

Take it or leave it 

Chip-on-the-shoulder attitude,

 

Double daring any wimp who differs 

To just try and knock it off--

Have I made myself clear, dearies?

 

 

 

 

 

At All Costs, Three's A Maddening Crowd

Don't you see?

 

Poets who wager they’re solid 

Solitary figures commuting 

With their souls should take 

A serious look at themselves 

And board the first tram to Bedlam;

 

I did and it worked wonders— 

Now all I have to do is convince you, 

Myself and I--or should that I be me--?

To invest in a return ticket,

But only should all of us agree.