I can't wait till once again
We have a president who's sane;
Whose meaningless words "No collusion!"
Don't become a daily refrain;

Who cares about people and country
More than profits and dividends;
Who places trust in allies and doesn't
Treat our adversaries as friends;

Whose charitable foundation isn't
Merely a personal slush fund or scam;
Whose kids aren't part of shady deals;
Whose spouse really gives a ****;

Who has integrity and doesn't
Give hateful fringe groups praise;
Whose job applicants don't need
The word "crook" on their résumés;

Who wins elections honestly
And doesn't rely on outside assistance;
For whom the use of lies and deceit
Is NOT the path of least resistance;

Who wants border security but doesn't
Constantly harp on a senseless wall;
Whose behavior is much, much more
Refined and LESS Neanderthal;

Who truly believes in democracy
And fully supports the rule of law;
Who doesn't expose ignorant views
In daily tweets of blah, blah, blah;

Who, when putting words together,
Could prove to be more prolific;
Whose daily repertoire has more
Adjectives than "great" and "terrific";

Whose team is not constantly
Involved in ethics violations;
Who in his first years of office isn't
In seventeen investigations.

Sooner or later, things will change.
But judging from every indicator,
It's suddenly starting to look as though
Relief might come sooner than later.

-by Bob B (12-19-18)

This is the tale of a girl
Only seven years old
Who came here from Guatemala.
Let her story be told.

Jakelin Caal Maquin
Came here with her dad
With hopes of seeking asylum,
Before everything went bad.

People seeking refuge
Are dangerously exposed
To inhumane conditions
When ports of entry are closed.

Through the desert they wandered
With others of the same mind
Seeking a place of safety
And leaving danger behind.

At least that's what they hoped for.
They hadn't had a clue
That cruelty existed
Here in America, too.

When they turned themselves in,
It's said that father and daughter
For several wearisome days
Hadn't had food or water.

The child started having
Seizures, the records show--
A nightmare for the father
Who suffered this tale of woe.

Possible dehydration,--
Doctors later expressed--
Shock and exhaustion led
To cardiac arrest.

A hospital in El Paso
Was where she took her last breath.
A new life was their goal;
What they encountered was death.

The head of the DHS--
Nielsen--places the blame
All on Jakelin's father.
The woman has no shame.

The callous disrespect
Of international law
Regarding asylum seekers
Reveals her major flaw.

Must we blame the victims?
We must ask ourselves why
There aren't better solutions
So more children won't die.

Sorry, Jakelin.
We must apologize
For our officials who thrive
On heartlessness and lies.

-by Bob B (12-15-18)

While many people all over the world
Are busily running to and fro
Engaging in cheerful holiday
Festivities, one thing we know:
Children are starving and dying in Yemen.

While Saudi Arabia nonchalantly
Covers up its heinous act
Of butchering a journalist,
We cannot ignore the fact
That children are starving and dying in Yemen.

While Congress fails to intercede
And chooses instead to bicker and quarrel
Over whether America should
Keep supporting a war that's immoral,
Children are starving and dying in Yemen.

While the oppressive Houthi rebels
Backed by Iran dig in their heels
And Saudi Arabia bombs the cities,
Intensifying a clash of ideals,
Children are starving and dying in Yemen.

When ports are blocked and money is scarce,
And fishermen's boats can't leave the shore,
And food and medical equipment
Are cut off in a three-year war,
Children are starving and dying in Yemen.

A 12-year-old girl weighs 28 pounds;
An 8-year-old boy weighs about 30.
Chances are slim that they will survive.
Who dares to say that war isn't *****?
Children are starving and dying in Yemen.

The people caught in the middle are certain
What the fiendish fighting portends:
A huge, unimaginable
Catastrophe unless the war ends,
For children are starving and dying in Yemen.

-by Bob B (12-14-18)

Light the candles on the menorah,
On the menorah, one by one.
Let the shamash be your attendant.
Gather together when day is done.

May the sounds of Hanukkah blessings
Fill your home with a cheerful mood.
Let your heart be brimming with wonder,
Joy and laughter and gratitude.

Celebrate the season with hope--
The yearly festival of lights.
Think about the oil that burned
For eight miraculous days and nights.

Spin the dreidel. How will it fall--
Nisht or gantz or halb or shtel?
Win or lose some Hanukkah gelt…
If you break even, you're doing well.

We reflect on where we have come from;
Struggles have never seemed to cease.
May people everywhere learn from the past.
For the sake of the children let there be peace.

Light the candles on the menorah,
On the menorah, one by one.
May the gentle glow of the candles
Soften the night in the setting sun.

-by Bob B (12-12-18)

°I know: the festival of Hanukkah has passed this year.
But it will return on 22 Dec. 2019.

(Can be sung to the tune of "Santa Claus Is Comin' to Town")

You'd better take heed; you'd better not bawl
When you read all the writing on the wall:
You are going to be IMPEACHED.
You can deny what you have done,
But you cannot fool everyone.
You are going to be IMPEACHED.
Mueller's digging deeper,
No matter what you do.
No matter what you think or say,
He's got the goods on you.
So! You'd better take heed; you'd better not bawl
When you read all the writing on the wall:
You are going to be IMPEACHED.

Putin can say he wasn't involved,
And you say, "Hey! Now I'm absolved."
You are going to be IMPEACHED.
Republican friends in Congress can try
To undermine the Mueller probe and lie.
You're still going to be IMPEACHED.
The people in this country are jumping up and down.
Finally there'll be oversight: the Dems have come to town.
So! You'd better take heed; you'd better not bawl
When you read all the writing on the wall:
You are going to be IMPEACHED.

You think that you are free and clear.
Keep your eyes open as storm clouds near.
You are going to be IMPEACHED.
You can say "No collusion" each day.
The truth of the matter won't go away.
You are going to be IMPEACHED.
Among your co-conspirators someone's spilled the beans;
Someone's told the truth about you,
And you know what that means.
So! You'd better take heed; don't weep and wail.
Worst case scenario: time in jail.
You are going to be IMPEACHED.

-by Bob B (12-10-18)

The president loves to carry on
About his gut and how it guides him.
How can anybody believe
A word of all of his nonsense besides him?

His gut encourages him to lie
And do it while he keeps a straight face.
It helps him create far-fetched stories
To dupe and galvanize his base.

His gut is great at seeking out
The shiftiest autocrats around,
So he can make America
His autocratic proving ground.

It's also very good at distracting
The country from what is REALLY going on--
At how to attract his servile lackeys
While he plays the role of the don.

It helps him to be great at knowing
How to pander to various groups
Such as evangelicals
Who kiss his you-know-what. Oops!

His gut tells him that scientists
Are full of baloney when they proclaim
That global warming is a threat
And humankind is largely to blame.

His gut says illegal voting
Is rampant. Doesn't he find it odd
That experts have found no proof at all
Of widespread voter fraud?

His gut says he hires the best people.
That makes him SO excited.
But how many have left their jobs?
How many have been indicted?

His gut said that he could pay money
To silence affairs and get away with it.
Did his gut let him know
Whether his wife would be okay with it?

His gut tells him that as the leader
He can do what he desires,
Which must include collusion, obstruction
Of justice, and calling dissenters liars.

Yes, I agree: gut feeling
Can be useful at times, BUT
Why can't the president
Start using reason and NOT his gut?

-by Bob B (11-30-18)

When I write a poem,
I find that all at once
A world of wonderment envelops me.
Life takes on new forms,
New thoughts come alive,
And tints of magic color all I see.

When I write a poem,
Longing grips my heart--
A longing to express what's deep inside.
The more I wander through
The wondrous realm of words,
Life becomes much more intensified.

Sometimes bright and hopeful,
Sometimes dark or gray,
Words say what my heart
Wants me to convey.

When I write a poem,
A passion, hope, or dream
Compels me to move forward word by word.
Once my poem's finished,
What else is there to say?
At least I've tried to let my voice be heard.

-by Bob B (11-29-18)