Chaos! Mayhem! Destructiveness!
We watched the vile desecration
Occurring in the halls of Congress.
Images rightfully shocked the nation.

The day will live in infamy.
Rioters left their ugly mark--
Their foolish anger having been
Ignited by the president's spark.

Who couldn't see this coming?
The president's vitriol and lies
And wild conspiracy theories appealed
To thugs he wanted to galvanize.

Joining Trump at the pre-riot rally
Were losers such as Giuliani--
Scoundrels who'd do anything
To aid and abet their good friend Donny.

While Congress met to do its job--
To certify the November election--
Trump was exhorting a mob to lead
What was truly an insurrection.

Lives were endangered; lives were lost.
The Capitol Building was left a mess.
But once the dust had settled, Congress
Fulfilled its duty nevertheless.

Will there now be consequences?
Will Trump and his hoodlums get away
With lawless behavior? Hopefully not.
If so, there's going to be hell to pay.

-by Bob B (1-8-21)

(This poem can be sung to the melody of "Auld Lang Syne.")

It's been a year from hell--one that
We might choose to forget.
Our routine and our very lives
Have been under constant threat.

Let’s raise a glass and give a toast,
For we have reached the end
Of 2020. Will good things
Await us 'round the bend?

A deadly virus spread and still
It takes a heavy toll.
Let's hope the vaccines wipe it out;
That will be the New Year's goal.

Let’s raise a glass and give a toast,
For we have reached the end
Of 2020. Will good things
Await us 'round the bend?

The votes were cast; the people spoke.
Now let's shout out three cheers,
For gone will be the one who gave
Us four nightmarish years.

Let’s raise a glass and give a toast,
For we have reached the end
Of 2020. Will good things
Await us 'round the bend?

-by Bob B (12-31-20)

On the first day of Christmas the White House gave to me:
An alternate reality.

On the second day of Christmas the White House gave to me:
Two NDAs and an alternate reality.

On the third day of Christmas the White House gave to me:
Three Trump steaks, two NDAs, and an alternate reality.

On the fourth day of Christmas the White House gave to me:
Four racist thugs, three Trump steaks, two NDAs, and an alternate reality.

On the fifth day of Christmas the White House gave to me:
Five hundred lies, four racist thugs, three Trump steaks, two NDAs, and an alternate reality

On the sixth day of Christmas the White House gave to me:
Six childish tantrums, five hundred lies, four racist thugs, three Trump steaks, two NDAs, and an alternate reality.

On the seventh day of Christmas the White House gave to me:
Seven Russians hacking, six childish tantrums, five hundred lies, four racist thugs, three Trump steaks, two NDAs, and an alternate reality.

On the eighth day of Christmas the White House gave to me:
Eight super spreaders, seven Russians hacking, six childish tantrums, five hundred lies, four racist thugs, three Trump steaks, two NDAs, and an alternate reality.

On the ninth day of Christmas the White House gave to me:
Nine COVID cases, eight super spreaders, seven Russians hacking, six childish tantrums, five hundred lies, four racist thugs, three Trump steaks, two NDAs, and an alternate reality.

On the tenth day of Christmas the White House gave to me:
Ten crooked pardons, nine COVID cases, eight super spreaders, seven Russians hacking, six childish tantrums, five hundred lies, four racist thugs, three Trump steaks, two NDAs, and an alternate reality.

On the eleventh day of Christmas the White House gave to me:
Eleven lawyers losing, ten crooked pardons, nine COVID cases, eight super spreaders, seven Russians hacking, six childish tantrums, five hundred lies, four racist thugs, three Trump steaks, two NDAs, and an alternate reality.

On the twelfth day of Christmas the White House gave to me:
Twelve new indictments, eleven lawyers losing, ten crooked pardons, nine COVID cases, eight super spreaders, seven Russians hacking, six childish tantrums, five hundred lies, four racist thugs, three Trump steaks, two NDAs, and an alternate reality.

-by Bob B (12-18-20)

(This poem can be sung to the melody of "Tiptoe Through the Tulips" by Al Dubin and Joseph Burke.)

D.T.:
Tiptoe through my tantrums,
Through my tantrums--my reality.
Come tiptoe through my tantrums with me.

Tiptoe through my chaos,
For my chaos is a guarantee
If you stroll through my chaos with me.

If things do not go my way,
I'll try to ruin your day.

Don't try to boss me, double-cross me
Or defy me, if YOU do you'll be
Wrapped up in my chaos with me.

If you don't like what you hear,
That's tough 'cause I won this year!

Do what I tell you
If you don't you'll be up a tree.
So tiptoe through my tantrums with me.

-by Bob B (12-17-20)

The time had arrived; the sleigh was packed
With toys, toys, toys galore.
The first of many trips for Santa.
(He knew he'd have to go back for more.)

"Time to go," said Santa to all
The reindeer that were hitched to the sleigh.
"We have a lot of work to do,
So we had best be on our way."

Santa met with resistance, however;
Red-nosed Rudolph refused to budge.
Santa thought to himself, "Humph!
I guess they'll need a little nudge."

Suddenly, Mrs. Claus appeared
With Santa's COVID mask in hand.
Santa mumbled quietly,
"Here comes my reprimand."

"You forgot your mask, my dear,"
Said Mrs. Claus. "Wear it now.
I know you think it is inconvenient,
But carelessness I won't allow."

"Dear," said Santa, "it's just one night.
The mask muffles my '**, **, **.'"
"I don't care if it's ONE minute;
Put it on before you go,"

Said Mrs. Claus, growing impatient.
"You wear your mask not just for you;
You also protect others. It's
A wise and considerate thing to do.

"And, Rudolph, make sure he leaves it on.
For if he removes it, there will be
Some trouble here when he comes home,
For he will have to reckon with me."

So Santa kissed his wife good-bye,
Put on his mask, and off he went,
Knowing that in life there were
Precautions one shouldn't circumvent.

-by Bob B (12-16-20)

Poor Trump is trying hard
To cover up his deep dejection.
He's attempting to overturn
The results of the presidential election.

Strange, bizarre conspiracy theories
Perpetuated by the Trumps
Are being spread like wildfire
And talk of massive ballot dumps.

Trump sounds like a mad King George
Or a crazed King Lear, losing his mind.
Any semblance of rational thought
In him is getting harder to find.

Frivolous lawsuits of voter fraud
From Giuliani's bag of tricks
Show that they're throwing whatever they can
At the wall in hopes that something sticks.

Sadly, they are undermining
Democracy with such crazy schemes.
They look even more pathetic
By going to such outrageous extremes.

Americans have voted and now
Await with hope a bright new dawn.
The jig is up. The game is over.
Mr. Trump, it's time to move on.

-by Bob B (12-1-20)

It's going to be a quiet Thanksgiving.
But that's all right--that's okay.
Caution now means better chances
Of seeing a future Thanksgiving Day.

Yes, it's sad that COVID-19
Happens to be our current reality.
But hopefully within a year,
We will see a return to normality.

Now with COVID numbers rising
And hospitals filling, it's getting scary.
To get the pandemic under control,
A bit of prudence is necessary.

There can still be turkey roasting,
Gravy simmering, potatoes boiling,
And homemade pumpkin pie beckoning…
And I'll be in the kitchen toiling.

The situation's not ideal,
But we'll get through this; we'll make do,
FaceTiming our family
And having Thanksgiving dinner for two.

-by Bob B (11-22-20)