(This poem can be sung to the melody of "Go Go Go, Joseph" from JOSEPH AND HIS AMAZING TECHNICOLOR DREAMCOAT by Andrew Lloyd Webber and Tim Rice.)
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Tze325xsYd4

(Narrator)
Nancy P. was looking to
Investigate what happened here
Back on a fateful winter day--
On January 6 this year.

(The People)
Hey, Nancy, you're doing what you must.
We want a probe that is robust.

Good going, Nancy, do not shy away.
Get to the cause of what happened that day.
Please don't stop, Nancy. You should find out
What the insurgence was really about.

(Narrator)
A group that was bipartisan
Was Nancy's goal--was Nancy's plan.
But she found resistance from
Kevin M.--the hatchet man.

(The People)
Hey, Nancy, he wants to derail
Everything, for he wants you to fail.

So she received from McCarthy some names.
He was intent on still playing his games.
One was Jim Jordan, the worst of the lot;
Another Jim Banks, to spoil the ***.

(Nancy P.)
Sorry, guys, but you have proved
That you're not worthy of this task.
I want people willing to
Be serious. That's all I ask.

(Narrator)
First, Jim Jordan hoped that he could prove
That Nancy here had made an unfair move.

(Jim Jordan)
Investigations like this are a sham.
If you don't want me, I don't give a ****.
If you ask me, I have known all along
That having this probe is both outrageous and wrong.

(Nancy P.)
Sorry that you feel that way,
So go back to what you were doing.
But studying attacks on our
Democracy is worth pursuing.

(Narrator)
Then Jim Banks stood up to speak his mind.
He and Jordan had been closely aligned.

(Jim Banks)
You have made this a partisan mess.
You're doing nothing but causing distress.
Forget all the riots; why can't we move on?
For me it is all just one giant yawn.

(Nancy P.)
How bizarre that you both live
In alternate realities.
Too bad that the two of you
Can't see the forest for the trees.

You are dangerous; it's clear to see.
I think that most people would agree.

(The People)
Don't worry, Nancy, you've done what is right.
Stick to your guns and don't give up the fight.
What those two men have done is quite clear:
Each one of them has his head up his rear.

Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah…
Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah…
Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah,
Yeah, yeah, yeah, Nancy, you've done what is right.
Stick to your guns and don't give up the fight.
What those two men have done is quite clear:
Each one of them has his head up his rear.
His head up his rear…
His head up his rear…
Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah!

-by Bob B (7-25-21)

Many think that the poor have it easy.
Well, let’s see if they really do....
Ah, they must if you carefully consider
What they do NOT have to go though.
 
They DON'T have huge investment dilemmas,
Such as "Is my portfolio complete?"
Or "Will I maintain my financial status?
It's hard keeping up with the elite!"
 
The poor aren’t faced with countless decisions
That make their daily lives so insane:
“Which car should I drive—the Mercedes or Lexus?”
“Armani or Gucci?” “Which pill for pain?"
 
The poor do not have thousands of options
For health care, so for them it’s a breeze.
"Why do they need preventative medicine?
Emergency care should put them at ease."
 
Taking care of a mansion is tough,
So the rich always have a reason to grouse.
"The poor have it easy with just an apartment,
Or if they’re lucky, a ramshackle house."
 
The rich, having to juggle their money,
Are in a quandary, so to speak.
"The poor can live simply, for they get to live
From paycheck to paycheck, from week to week."
 
It’s hard to organize fancy dinners;
To get the best caterers, you have to pull strings.
"It's so much easier for the poor:
On food stamps can’t they still live like kings?"
 
Hiding millions of dollars is a challenge;
The Cayman Islands are so far away.
"For those don’t have the money to hide,
Life’s less hassle for them, you might say."
 
Tax loopholes are also a headache;
It’s hard to determine which ones work best.
"Those with no money don’t have to worry
Because they lack the funds to invest."
 
Just ask the poor: if they had a choice,
Would they be willing to make a switch,
And give up the easy life of the poor
For the complex, difficult life of the rich?

- by Bob B

Dear Donald, I have to say
How much I love our private jokes,
Especially the one that we
Both have called the Russian hoax.

You have learned a lot from me.
Fortunately, you're on my team.
All the power that I have
For you, however, is just a dream.

But keep up your strategy
Of duping the public. True, you'll find
You cannot fool everyone.
But there's one thing to bear in mind:

The more you condemn your nasty critics
And put the critical press on trial,
The more power you'll have. Can you--
While reading this-- see me smile?

The 2020 election will be
Very important. We can thwart
Your Democratic opponent, so
Let me know if you need support.

If you say a cloud has been lifted,
Then I think we both agree
That if you lift some sanctions, you'll
Lift the cloud that's over me.

I like how your trust in me
Overshadows the trust in your own
Experts there. For more advice,
Call me on the telephone.

By the way, I have to say,
I'm still counting every hour
Till I can have my penthouse view
From high atop your Moscow tower.

I'll support you, by the way,
But don't ask me to be your caddie.
I can dig up dirt on any-
One you want. Your friend, Vladdy.

-by Bob B (5-7-19)

The White House game of musical chairs continues.
Trump has once again a change of taste.
Rex Tillerson, who has been serving as his
Secretary of State, is being replaced.
The new appointee will be Mike Pompeo--
A sycophantic yes-man through and through.
Trump will soon have the cabinet he wants,
He says--in short, his loyal retinue.
Why always this constant change of heart?
Why not pick the right ones from the start?

The personal assistant to the president
Was walked off White House grounds without his jacket.
He must have done something pretty outrageous.
Take THAT political nut and try to crack it!
Serious financial crimes appeared
To be the cause of McEntee's removal.
But he now has a job on Trump's campaign;
So much he has the president's approval!
Such a move: could you call it smart,
Knowing what we know from the start?

House Republicans investigating
The Russia connection say the case is closed
Without having conducted a thorough query.
Their true motivations have been exposed.
How sad when our legislators' desires
To seek out truth and clarity are sparse,
And favoring Party over the American people,
They turn an investigation into a farce!
Republicans on the committee did their part
To sabotage the process from the start.

-by Bob B (3-14-18)

Two monks were traveling
To a town some miles away—
A journey that would take them
A good part of the day.
 
They stepped mindfully;
Their voices wasted no words.
The only sound they heard
Was the singing of the birds.
 
Suddenly crossing their path
Rushed a rippling stream—
Its current on the rough side
(Or so it did seem).
 
Before the flowing current,
A woman stood—waiting—
Assessing the situation—
In her mind debating
 
Whether to turn around
Or to cross the gurgling water.
Her foot slipped on the moss
And she began to totter.
 
The older monk caught her,
And so she wouldn’t get wet,
He carried her across the stream
With no hint of regret.
 
On dry land again,
He carefully set her down.
She thanked him and continued
To the local town.
 
As the monks continued
On their resolute path,
The younger monk complained—
His words were tinged with wrath:
 
“How could you pick her up?
That’s against the rules.
You make us look suspicious—
Like lascivious fools.”
 
On and on he grumbled,
Talking without cease,
Depriving them of calm,
And giving them no peace.
 
The older monk grew tired
Of the ranting and the raving.
Concerned about the way
His companion was behaving,
 
He stopped and said, “My friend,
I carried her—I know—
Across the stream and put her
Down LONG ago.
 
“You don’t like the manner
In which I applied goodwill;
But you, dear friend, are the one
Who carries the woman still.”
 
They walked on in silence;
Neither felt distraught—
The older monk smiling,
The younger deep in thought.

- by Bob B

“Is the glass half
Full or half empty?”
Such was the question presented to me.
It depends on whether
The glass contains
A good Cabernet or a cheap Chablis.
 
If it contains
A good Cabernet
With a bold, full-bodied, smoky flavor,
The glass is always
Half empty because
That’s an experience I want to savor.
 
If, however,
A cheap Chablis
Stares at me from the glass’s interior,
That glass is always
Half full to me,
As I endlessly sip a wine that’s inferior.
 
What? You say
That I don’t get it—
That I am trying to redefine
The meaning behind
The expression? I say:
Just shut up and hand me my wine!
 
- by Bob B

"We’d like you to join our amazing group.
Though some might call us a cult, we're not.
We don't resort to brainwashing. No,
We don't try to control each thought.
 
"We just teach you the right way to think;
We teach you how to "choose" your words,
How to act, and how to feel.
Critical thinking is for the birds.
 
"Therefore, you won't have to wonder
What is right and what is wrong here.
Since questioning, doubting, and dissenting confuse you,
Let's just say that they don't belong here.
 
"Our way, you'll find, is the ONLY path
To free you from a world of grief.
Once you cut ties with skeptics, your
Zealous commitment will give you relief.
 
"People out there curse and belittle us.
That doesn’t faze us, for they don’t see
That we are right and they are lost.
It’s all so clear. Don’t you agree?
 
"The blessed teachings that we employ
Have nothing at all to do with guilt.
Instead, we call it 'forming your conscience.'
Obey and we’ll back you to the hilt.
 
"Fear is a focus for cults out there.
Their tactics frighten, coerce, and demean.
With us you will find safety and security--
At least if you can prove you've come clean.
 
"If your friends and family don't join you,
Don't worry: you've got family with us.
Forget the others; you don't need them.
Lamenting their loss is not worth the fuss.
 
"Imagine how much honor you'll have
Recruiting new members to join our community.
You'll jump at the chance to share your path
To salvation at every opportunity.
 
"Your total allegiance, of course, is expected.
We can't imagine you'd try to deceive us.
One thing we can guarantee:
You'll never--EVER--want to leave us."

- by Bob B

In the fall of 1972
When cosmos waved in the autumn breeze
For miles along the country roads,
And dappled foliage covered the trees,

In South Korea I knew a man--
I'll just call him Sergeant D--
Who was stationed in the city of Seoul
At a U.S. Army post with me.

Buddies we weren't. To tell the truth
I didn't know him very well.
But he was a definite character,
Always joking and raising hell.

Payday would come once a month
And Sergeant D would be in the black.
A few days later he'd want to borrow
Money that he'd never pay back.

That fall Sergeant D
Was "getting short," an expression that meant
He was close to leaving the service.
For him that was an exciting event.

"Short!" he'd yell, on entering the barracks.
"Short!" you'd hear from a block away.
He loved to rub it in, much
To his homesick army buddies' dismay.

To exit the service, he would fly
To California, where a car--
A flashy new model--awaited him
To drive back home--rather far.

So after the sergeant left Korea,
Picked up his car, and headed east,
He died on a California
Highway. Tragic, to say the least.

After having survived two tours
Of duty in Vietnam, this man
Left Korea and died before
His post-army life began!

Life is full of ironies
That always have us asking "Why?"--
Ironies that make us chuckle,
Make us ponder, make us cry.

- by Bob B

Tell me how a man--a real estate mogul,
Who brags about women he can ****** or ogle;
Who NOT through hard work but by using his fame
Rakes in the bucks from brandishing his name;
Who supplements his fortune by appearing on TV
And adds to his resumé: celebrity;
Who stiffs his employees, as many have noted;
Who riles up his base against the scapegoated;
Who breaks all the rules and who shoots from the hip,
And earned himself a zero in statesmanship;
Who criticizes others for breeches in security
But whose own practices are clothed in obscurity;
Who hides from the world his shadowy case history
And wants to keep his tax returns a total mystery--
How can this man--this New York resident--
Become a country's 45th president?

There’s trouble in America. That’s what they say.
There’s trouble in America. That’s life today.
There’s trouble in America. Something is broken.
There’s trouble in America. Let the truth be spoken.

Tell me how a man can pull in donations
Despite--give or take--nineteen accusations
Of ****** harassment--of ****** impropriety--
That normally would bring you shameful notoriety.
Women, immigrants, and others whom he blasted:
Why weren't more of them completely flabbergasted?
How could he lead a Party to victory
When his behavior is so contradictory?
White House jobs go to son-in-law and daughter;
He talks of friend Putin as though he walks on water.
How can a person con his way to the top
And "waist" so much money--excuse the malaprop--
Spending so much time at his posh golf resorts?
(Maybe he's making up for time he'll spend in courts.)
How many voters regret what they have done
Now that the blowhard is leader number one?

There’s trouble in America. That’s what they say.
There’s trouble in America. That’s life today.
There’s trouble in America. Something is broken.
There’s trouble in America. Let the truth be spoken.

Tell me how a leader can garner support
When it comes to honesty and he comes up short.
When you're pathological, how do you earn
Respect from ALL of the people that you burn?
If your administration has a racist flavor,
You cannot be doing justice a favor.
Running a country requires a lot more
Than being rich and famous and thriving on lore.
About his private life, most don't give a hoot,
But now he's in bed with NRA to boot!
As the Russia probe keeps digging deeper,
The mountain of evidence keeps getting steeper.
"Un-presidented" is what the man would write;
"Unprecedented" would be more erudite.
Scandal after scandal in the USA!
Madness is only one tweet away!

There’s trouble in America. That’s what they say.
There’s trouble in America. That’s life today.
There’s trouble in America. Something is broken.
There’s trouble in America. Let the truth be spoken.

Trouble in America…

-by Bob B (3-12-18)

Ideas and communication:
Both of those energize you.
Whatever stifles your self-expression
Can dangerously immobilize you.

For you there's always something new
And interesting to be explored.
Two of your biggest fears are
Both routine and being bored.

Your raison d'être could be
Your intellectual curiosity.
You could, on the other hand,
Exhibit an uncontrolled verbosity.

You devour information.
At multi-tasking you're number one.
But if you go too far, you'll be
A jack-of-all-trades but master of none.

Projects, errands, and meetings keep you
Occupied and on the go.
"Variety is the spice of life!"
Is stamped on your portfolio.

Wanting to know everything
About all others can be a plus;
But when other people want to know
All about you, don't make a fuss.

You're extremely adaptable
To changing ideas and situations.
When others can't keep up with you…
Well, that causes complications.

Slow down and keep in mind
That not everyone shares your ability
To store so much information
And thrive on natural versatility.

A constant need for a change of scene--
To which you hold strict adherence--
Keeps you moving. Just be sure
To cultivate perseverance.

Because of your mental dexterity,
It's easy for you to jump through hoops.
Because you're good at networking,
You are comfortable working with groups.

You often know what others are thinking,
And if you're more the extrovert,
At sales you are dynamite,
For you could sell a guy his own shirt.

If your focus is too much on
Mental stimulation, beware:
Others will think you're superficial--
That you are distant and do not care.

Always full of energy,
You're the social butterfly.
You still need time to yourself;
"Freedom!" is your battle cry.

Don't take on too many tasks
So that you leave them all unfinished.
Restlessness and nervousness
Can make you feel drained and diminished.

If you learn how to concentrate
On one thing at a time, you'll find
It's not that hard and helps you center
What could be a distracted mind.

Balancing the mind and feelings:
That's the biggest challenge you face.
Use your insight, wit, and charm
To make the world a better place.

-by Bob B (5-20-17)

Pfmmmpf! went the door. The engine started;
The “Fasten Seat Belts” signs were lit.
My screen showed emergency instructions.
I thought to myself, “Well, this is it!”
 
The plane shook as it rolled down the runway.
I gulped and curiously looked around.
With white knuckles I clutched the armrest
As the plane lifted up off the ground.
 
Holding my breath as we ascended,
I glanced out the window, and what do you know:
Houses, streets, and cars grew smaller
In the ever-shrinking world down below.
 
I wondered, “Has my Xanax kicked in yet?
Will it hurt to have ONE glass of wine?”
The plane leveled off; the flight attendant
Smiled and said, “Honey, you’re doing fine.”
 
The screen on the back of the seat in front of me
Displayed a map of our cross-country route.
If I sat there and watched that screen,
I knew that I was going to freak out.
 
Sleep? Forget it. How is that possible
With all of the vibrating, bouncing, and roaring,
And lights going on and off and overhead
Cabinets clicking and people snoring?
 
No leg-room for stretching my legs:
The dreadful curse of economy class.
The constant shifting around in my seat
Was a literal pain in the ***.
 
I tried in vain to get some sleep
With my book lying in my lap.
I'd peek at the screen. We'd moved only
A millimeter across the map.
 
I felt like Sisyphus pushing his rock;
The night seemed to have no end.
Finally, to my great relief,
Our plane started to descend.
 
“Yay!” We landed and rolled to a stop.
On leaving the plane, I felt signs of fall.
Breathing in the fresh air, I thought,
“That wasn’t so bad after all.”
 
I'd passed the test with flying colors—
Sort of. At least I wasn’t too frantic.
And as it turned out my very next flight
Was going to take me across the Atlantic.

- by Bob B

People often think that I’m weird
Because I love to read
German grammar and usage texts.
Okay, I concede:
 
It’s not normal to read through
Such books from cover to cover;
But it’s not so strange when you are considered
A German language lover.
 
It also makes sense when one’s
A German language learner
To read a book most people consider
NOT a real page turner.
 
But German—Ach!—I love the language;
I love to speak it and hear it.
I love how it bounces off the tongue.
(It’s a shame that some won’t go near it.)
 
The language really tickles my ears;
To me it doesn’t sound snooty.
Because of its crispness and clarity, I
Appreciate its beauty.
 
Unlike the Italians, the Germans don’t
Talk with their hands.
They also don’t sound like drill sergeants
Shouting out commands.
 
And Germans, unlike speakers of English,
Don’t confuse “her” with “she”;
They also don’t have a problem knowing
When to use “I” or “me.”
 
The German language sounds fresh and vivid,
Vivacious, spirited, and zestful.
It’s not a language that lulls you to sleep
In a manner quiet and restful.
 
Listen to the great German poems
That go back many years
By Eichendorff, Goethe, and Heine.
Music to my ears!
 
Don’t forget that English is
A Germanic language. It’s true!
But now a lot of our words come from Latin
And other languages, too.
 
When I’m feeling down in the dumps,
Sad or a little morose,
All I need to perk me up
Is German in a large dose.
 
Beauty is in the eye of the viewer;
That idea holds sway.
It’s also in the ear of the listener.
What more can I say?

- by Bob B

The world has fickle ways, Marie.
Winds of discontent keep blowing.
Gratitude drowns in despair.
Sometimes it's hard to keep on going.
Alliances are doomed to fail
When the light inside grows dim.
The world becomes a dangerous place
When human reason gives in to whim.

Are you a victim of circumstances?
Of family ambitions? Possibly.
Do you know enough to know
That knowing might have set you free?
Are you completely oblivious
When people drag your name through the mud?
What about the rumors that you
Desire to bathe in the people's blood?

Don't lose your head, Marie.
Keep your cool. Think about it.
The reason is simple: you know there's
Not much you can do without it.

Are you using others, or is it
More that others are using you?
We know your penchant for lavish spending
Isn't hard to misconstrue.
Did you really plaster your walls
With gold and diamonds? Please say no.
Denying it won't help you now.
It was the gossip long ago.

Public opinion is not based
On wisdom, reason, and facts, my dear.
I wish I were able to tell you that
Rumors and talk are nothing to fear.
A high profile is all that you need
For people with minds cruel and perverse
To criticize your character
Or--heaven forbid!--do something worse.

Don't lose your head, Marie.
Keep your cool. Think about it.
The reason is simple: you know there's
Not much you can do without it.

- by Bob B

The Trump administration continues
To sing the dour voter fraud song.
Hoping to weaken voting rights,
Many Republicans sing along.

Multiple-state registration:
One case in point, they state.
Let's see what kind of evidence
They'll be able to create.

Tiffany Trump, Jared Kushner,
Bannon and Spicer, it's vital to note,
Were registered in multiple states--
Yes, registered to vote!

White House adviser Stephen Miller
Speaks in defense of the president's claims
By raising more foundationless doubts--
By building a fire and fanning the flames.

"The president's authority
Will NOT be questioned," Miller declares.
When our leaders talk like that,
It's a sorry state of affairs.

Toning down such dictatorial
Language is going to be a must
If the current administration
Expects to be credible and wants our trust.

- by Bob B (2-16-17)

Where does your chicken come from—
The chicken you find on your plate?
It’s probably in a slaughterhouse
Where the bird meets its fate.
From clamps holding its feet,
It hangs upside down with the others—
Not the kind of ending
They'd choose if they had their druthers.
They’re dragged through a cold salty bath
To stun them and keep them from thrashing;
A cutter then slashes their throats
With its deadly, silvery blades flashing.
If that were the end, they'd be lucky;
But most of their hearts are still pumping.
For ninety more seconds they’ll hang.
Can you hear the hearts thumping?
Dead or alive they are dumped
Into pools of scalding water
Where the ones that are still alive
Will flop and scream from this slaughter.
After the torture is over
All of the bodies are slated
To be gutted, plucked, and whatever....
They’ve basically been desecrated.
 
Other methods used—
And I admit I don’t know ‘em—
To butcher our feathered friends are
Beyond the scope of this poem.
But regarding this slaughterhouse massacre,
There’s one more thing I maintain:
The conditions before this bloodbath,
Are also not very humane.
The chickens are squeezed into cages
In conditions sometimes unfit.
How would you like to stand
Up to your ankles in s--t?
What about free-range poultry?
Be careful: you might see
That despite the nice-sounding concept,
It’s not what it’s cracked up to be.
And then there’s the farmyard chicken
That the farmer’s so gleefully fed,
Which is unaware
That its master will chop off its head.
I’m not trying to scare you
Or be indiscreet,
But we must all be cognizant
Of where we are getting our meat.
 
I could inform you about
What happens to a cow,
Or lamb or pig; however,
I'll spare you that for now.

- by Bob B

Isn't English fun to learn--
Especially spelling and pronunciation?
It's hard enough for native speakers
And is the cause of a lot of frustration!

Think of female deer, does,
And then the form of "do," "does."
Consider the "a-s" found in "as"
And how it is pronounced in "was."

We have ears on our heads.
Add a "b" and you've got "bears."
There's also "e-a-r" in "earth."
And a funny "e-i" found in "heirs."

Look up and see a star.
Add an "e" and you've got "stare."
That is not so hard perhaps.
But why does "stare" rhyme with "where"?

"Say" is easy to say, all right.
But add an "s" and you've got "says."
But if you add an "s" to "hay,"
You do not pronounce it "hez"!

Back to "where," which rhymes with "air."
But look at the "e-r-e" in sphere.
"I" before "e" except after "c"…
But what about the weird word "weir"?

"Tough" and "though" are always fun.
Then there's "through" and "ought" and "drought."
Don't forget to drop the "b"
When you say both "debt" and "doubt."

Throw in apostrophes,
And English teachers really have fits
When they are used for writing plurals
Or when "it's" is used for "its."

Forget all the silent letters
In words like "write," "knot," and "pneumonia."
If you said, "I made the rules,"
I'd have to say, "I disown ya!"

It wouldn't work to try to write
All the words phonetically,
For Easterners and Southerners
Don't say all the words like me.

For many years I've been around English--
Hearing, speaking, discerning it,
Exploring its countless nuances.
I guess I'll always be learning it.

-by Bob B (8-28-17)

The Skotzki girls, Helga and Inge,
Fifteen and thirteen years old,
Boarded the SS St. Louis in Hamburg.
Let their story forever be told.

The girls' parents, Gunther and Charlotte,
Experienced with growing unease
The dangers of living in **** Germany.
The solution: to flee as refugees.

Nine hundred Jewish passengers
Aboard the luxury liner departed
In May of 1939.
For them a new life had started.

Or so they hoped. Two weeks later,
When they reached Cuba--the end of their trip--
Only twenty-eight of the people
Were permitted to leave the ship.

Discrimination and politics
Had suddenly played a deadly hand,
Affecting the fate of those who sought
Asylum in a foreign land.

Toward Florida the ship sailed.
The refugees begged for immigrant status.
The desperate cries refused to budge
The cold, political apparatus.

"We've already fulfilled our quotas."
"Careful! They might be **** spies."
Excuses emerged and rumors spread
With paranoid suppositions and lies.

The captain steered the ship back to Europe.
The refugees caught in a game of chance
Were spread among four countries:
The Netherlands, Belgium, Great Britain, and France.

Of the nine hundred passengers,
Two hundred fifty-four of them lost
Their lives while they were stuck in Europe
During the ghastly Holocaust.

Helga and Inge, along with their parents,
Probably struggled to comprehend
How politics could come before people.
In Auschwitz their lives came to an end.

We know we can't turn back the clock,
But we must do whatever it takes
To put people first and do what is right--
Or else we're doomed to repeat our mistakes.

- by Bob B (4-25-17)

Stand up for freedom--
For the right of self-expression.
Speak out against tyranny,
Cruelty and aggression.

Stand up for tolerance,
Acceptance and good will.
Embrace understanding,
So bigotry comes to nil.

Stand up for unity--
For oneness, not separation.
Let inclusiveness
Strengthen our foundation.

Stand up for equality--
For the promise of equal rights.
Keep mutual respect
Clearly in our sights.

Stand up for action
To save the human race.
Unite with others to make
The world a better place.

Stand up for giving--
For generosity and sharing.
Let your noble heart
Be ruled by compassion and caring.

Stand up for justice--
For fair treatment of all.
Let sound decisions
Be our protocol.

Stand up for peace--
For amicable contributions.
Celebrate diplomacy
And nonviolent solutions.

Stand up for love.
Let it resonate
Throughout the world, and let
The tides of hatred abate.

- by Bob B

(Try to imagine Donald Trump on a stage in a
tuxedo with a top hat and a cane.)*

(1)
"I've spent many years
On a stage of sorts.
Including all the times
I've spent in the courts.
But now I'm on the biggest
And grandest stage of all
And on a constant high,
Though not from alcohol.
Since being president
Is not an easy task,
To help me run this country,
There's ONE thing that I ask:

"Please…
Can…
You…
Give me a break?
Come on and
Give me a break.
They say to take it on the chin,
But hey! I never thought I'd win.
So give me a break.
Yes, give me a break.
For Pete's sake
Give me a break!

(2)
"People say they want
To see my tax returns.
Every time I hear that,
Oh, my stomach churns.
Buh-lieve me: no one's being
Taken for a ride.
But my financial matters
Are…um…classified.
There was no collusion
With Putin. Can't you see?
We JUST exploited his
Dislike for Hillary.

"So…
Come…
On…
Give me a break--
A beautiful break!
I will fix this world. And how!
You know I'm the cat's meow.
Just give me a break.
Yes, give me a break.
For goodness' sake
Give me a break!

(3)
"If Congress pats my back,
I'll give theirs a pat.
If Dems did, too, then I
Would hug a Democrat.
Loyalty’s important,
So if I get the urge,
I might just have to give
The FBI a purge.
I wish the prying media
Would try to be my friend
And write what pleases me.
Of course that would depend.

"If…
They…
Would…
Give me a break--
A big giant break!
I've the right to ridicule
Anyone I think a fool.
So give me a break.
Yes, give me a break.
For God's sake
Give me a break!

(4)
"So what if Flynn's a liar
And Spicer is a ****
And Bannon is a racist
And Sessions is a rube?
Ivanka and Trump Junior
Will pick up any slack.
I've got Kelly whipped,
And Sarah has my back.
I even have the white
Supremacists at my feet.
To stir up all my base,
All I do is tweet.

"ONE…
MORE…
TIME…
Give me a break--
A fabulous break.
Kim Jong Un has got to go.
Call me Mr. Dynamo!
Just give me a break--
A HUGE, gorgeous break.
Come on! Just
Give me a break!"

-by Bob B (1-2-18)

Trump and his infamous tweets.
Boy is he on a roll!
Have leaders ever had such
A lack of impulse control?

He couldn't tweet just a simple
New Year's greeting to all.
In typical Trumpian fashion
He had to have the gall

To also address his "enemies"--
All of the people who
"Lost so badly" and
"Don't know what to do."

His rambling tweets show
How much he lacks the potential
For rising to the occasion
And being presidential.

They also demonstrate
A definite want of lucidity.
Might his real enemy
Be his own stupidity?

- by Bob B (1-2-17)

Stormy is back in the news,
Looking for better reviews.
It wouldn't be keen
Not to come clean
On something she couldn't refuse.

People say Trump's a bit harried;
It all happened after he married.
'Twas just a short fling;
No promise, no ring.
But big plans for silence miscarried.

Trump's fine attorney then later,
Serving as negotiator,
Paid Stormy a sum
To make her stay mum
And said, "Good-by, alligator."

As **** star, Stormy might brag
About any man she might snag.
Her story and pix
From twenty-oh-six
Came out this year in a mag.

Attorney and Trump both deny
That anything happened. Then why
Did both of them feel
That Stormy would squeal,
And give her the dough on the sly?

We hear now that Stormy is saying
Their pact to stay silent is fraying.
She blurted out, “Halt!
The lawyer’s at fault.
No longer will I be obeying.”

Stormy is sly, people say.
To some she's a Morgan le Fay.
She said to the press
That she'll take her dress
And test it for Trump's DNA.

It seems as though only Trump's base
Completely ignores his disgrace.
When he is errant
And so **** transparent,
How can he keep a straight face?

Perhaps we will find that no doubt there
Will be more to scribble about. There
IS one suggestion:
Bring up the question
Of how many "Stormys" are out there?

-by Bob B (2-16-18)

Beware of the two-headed monster
Of incalculable size—
An amorphous, protean shape
That attacks by surprise.
 
This monster relies on deception
To corner its unwary prey;
You fall into its clutches
Once your endurance gives way.
 
One of its faces is comely,
Displaying a luring smile
And a look of apparent compassion—
Both of which beguile.
 
Its mouth forms words of loyalty,
Morality, honor, virtue,
Freedom, pride, and values;
You wonder how that could hurt you.
 
But what you don’t see directly
While you’re busy being stung
By all the sly, false promises
Is the monster’s disgusting forked tongue.
 
The other face of the monster
Is hideous beyond belief—
Bearing an insidious smirk
And a mien that fills you with grief.
 
The mouth on this face spews hatred,
Poison, distrust, hypocrisy,
And duplicitous manipulation—
A threat to any democracy.
 
It pours out dangerous platitudes
And remedies that mislead.
Underneath its artifice
Runs callousness and greed.
 
The monster, of course, uses trickery
To let you see only one face;
But it keeps its nefarious tactics
Constantly in place.
 
With tentacles of far-reaching range,
It reaches out to clasp
Any heedless victim
And hold him or her in its grasp.
 
So beware of the two-headed monster
And its growing provocation.
Only two things can **** it:
Reason and education.

- by Bob B

Discover your inner music and dance!
Sing your song with glee.
Let your ability to be yourself
Light up your glowing marquee.

Accept yourself; be kind to yourself;
And be considerately bold.
Don't let purveyors of mediocrity
Force you into a mold.

Proclaim your individuality.
Be humble yet self-assured.
Don't let the light of your heartfelt endeavors
Ever be obscured.

So what if you are not like others.
If you want to go far,
Keep your focus, follow your heart,
And simply be who you are.

Be impervious to scornful mutterings.
See through hypocrites and fakes.
Don't let others' weaknesses cause you
To imitate their mistakes.

Be attentive to those around you,
But go where your inner guides take you.
Don't let the sticklers for conventionality
Stifle your song or break you.

Appreciate every single moment;
Try to maintain good cheer.
Trust in yourself and realize
There's nothing, there's no one to fear.

- by Bob B

The Senate confirmed Betsy DeVos
As Secretary of Education--
A real slap in the face to the public
School system in this nation.

DeVos's desire to "advance God's kingdom"
Through education sounds a bit scary.
That should make anybody
Who knows the Constitution wary.

Her vague and incoherent replies
To Senators' questions were dull and drizzly.
Her thoughts regarding guns in schools:
You never know; there might be a grizzly.

Her reputation for school reform
In Michigan isn't stellar.
To weaken the public school system
Is NOT a solution. Would someone tell her?

- by Bob B (2-8-17)

Seven point three billion people
On Earth. Yes, that's a lot.
By 2050 that number should swell
By a third. Scary thought!

India's population--they say--
Should surpass China's, AND
Poverty shall increase and food
And water will be in demand.

All of these numbers--all of these babies:
Maybe the people who've spawned 'em
Ought to learn to appreciate
The value of the ******.

- by Bob B

Welcome to the new America.
Two hundred forty-some years, and wow!:
A few years of Donald Trump,
And look at what we have here now:

Republicans who once held
American values in high esteem
Parrot Kremlin propaganda,
Giving shape to Putin’s dream.

The president, boldly abusing
The power of pardon multiple times,
Pardons servicemen who
Have been convicted of war crimes.

Though bribery’s a crime by law,
Believe it or not, Republicans say
That when the president commits it,
Breaking the law is--yikes!--okay.

By frequently abusing his power,
The president, who acts like a king,
Plots White House cover-ups
And lies about almost everything.

An adversary becomes our ally;
Former allies become estranged.
The nation is more vulnerable
As priorities are rearranged.

Be a part of the “Me Too” movement,
But be aware of the current dictum:
Accuse someone of ****** assault,
And the perpetrator will be the victim.

Taking advantage of his position,
The president is free to loot
The country for his own enrichment,
And many people don’t give a hoot.

If you are seeking asylum, forget it.
The country now will let you in
If you pass a major requirement:
It all depends on the color of your skin.

Climate change is called a hoax
And regulations are rolled back.
Criticize the president
And find yourself under attack.

White nationalists who are close
To the president help him make
Intolerant policies
That put our rights and freedom at stake.

Now congressional oversight
Is called a witch hunt, a lynching, a coup.
To understand the president's motives,
Just ask, "What would Putin do?"

So welcome…I mean…welcome maybe.
America seems to have a new face--
One to be changed mainly by thoughtful
Attention at the polling place.

-by Bob B (11-19-19)

Some people can be their own worst enemy.
Frequently, they tend to call attention
To their gross incompetence and act
Amazed when they're surrounded by dissension.
Perhaps it's just that they're oblivious
To their surroundings, or they do not care
About matters not involving them.
They're caught up in their self-love affair.
Their stratagem relies on subterfuge.
To achieve their desires, they deceive.
Their focus is NOT on what to give,
But rather on how much they'll receive.
One wonders if they'll ever pay the price
Of brushing off intelligent advice.

Being their own worst enemy, such people
Love to play the victim or the martyr.
Would it even faze them if friends said,
"You know, we really thought that you were smarter"?
How they love to catapult themselves
Into a situation and then claim
That everybody's out to get them! Then,
"Poor me!" they cry as they pass the blame.
The words "empathy" and "understanding"
Aren't a part of their vocabulary.
If you don't agree with what they say,
Then you become their hateful adversary.
What would it take to make it clear
That they themselves are what they ought to fear?

-by Bob B (8-22-17)

Born in a South Dakotan town,
My mom loved her Midwestern roots.
But after moving out West she never
Again put on her warm winter boots.

One thing you didn't want to do
Was cross my mother; that wasn't wise.
Get in her way or treat her rudely,
And watch out! Her temper would rise.

Pity the poor salesclerk who got
Snippy with Mom if Mom asked a question.
The salesclerk would have been told where to go,
And not with a mild, friendly suggestion.

Don't get me wrong; Mom was also
Kind and thoughtful and easygoing.
But she hated to be interrupted
When cooking, crafting, knitting, or sewing.

You learned how to stay out of her way--
Little tricks for surviving.
I was afraid that one day she'd end up
In jail for road rage when she was driving.

If someone pushed her very last button,
A litany of colorful words might gush
From out of her mouth--words that could
Even make a sailor blush.

But Mom loved doing things for others.
In fact, that was her main concern.
For family, relatives, friends, and neighbors,
She always wanted to do a good turn.

Watching her kids and grandkids at Christmas
Open their gifts was her greatest pleasure.
Her thoughtfulness and generosity
Definitely exceeded all measure.

She could become obsessed about things.
When she got an idea in her head,
You knew she'd eventually make it happen,
No matter what the rest of us said.

She often had to convince my dad
That it was time for something new.
One day she found a house on a hill,
And so they moved to that house with a view.

Then she became obsessed with travel
And persuaded my dad to buy an RV.
I don't know how many they wound up
Buying and selling; I think at least three.

We often ask ourselves what would have happened
If she had gone to the ER that night.
We catch the flu; then we get well.
That's what always happens, right?

Not in Mom's case. As it turned out,
Her stubbornness was her undoing.
If we do not open our eyes,
We can't see storm clouds brewing.

I see aspects of Mom in me
In how I sometimes think and behave,
In how my neuroses express themselves,
In what I like, in what I crave.

In situations, I often wonder
What Mom would have said or done.
I might not do what comes to mind,
But thinking about it is always fun.

- by Bob B

Would you hold a tarantula
On your upturned palm
And watch it creep up your arm
While you stayed cool and calm?
 
You might be able to do it,
Or at least be willing to try.
Not for a billion dollars!
No, no, no…not I!
 
In some parts of the world
Tarantulas are a snack.
Could you eat one without
Having a heart attack?
 
They're roasted on a stick
And eaten with gusto and glee.
That might be something you'd like;
It's NOT my cup of tea.
 
Tell me: why do spiders
Send shivers down my spine?
Only some are dangerous;
Most of them are benign.
 
I mean, in CHARLOTTE'S WEB
I have to admit that I cried
When--SPOILER ALERT!--
The poor spider died.
 
Although in my garden they eat
Flies and other critters,
Despite their usefulness,
They STILL give me the jitters.
 
Maybe some spider jokes
Would make them less of an irk:
A spider walked into a bar…
No, that doesn't work.
 
I have to see spiders as simply
Mysterious creatures of nature.
My fears, however, are real
And not about nomenclature.
 
I can try to stay calm
In the future whenever I meet one.
But I can tell you right now:
I'll never HOLD or EAT one!

- by Bob B

Everything hangs by a tenuous thread.
Don't be vain or unrealistic.
Such is existence: it comes and goes.
That's being honest and NOT pessimistic.

Abandon a false sense of security.
Throw off thoughts of invincibility.
Does knowing that things are beyond your control
Dare to threaten your fragile tranquility?

Fiery summers can parch the earth;
We are vulnerable in bitter cold winters.
Although our home seems strong and solid,
A tornado can leave our "fortress" in splinters.

Rising waters inundate the land.
When that happens, we grow less smug.
As hard as we try to control nature's flooding,
We can't simply pull a bathtub plug.

Our firm foundation seems indestructible;
Efforts to make us safe are painstaking.
Nevertheless, notice how helpless
All of us are when the ground starts shaking.

Timeless time is tightly tied
Inextricably to being.
Such interconnectedness
Ought to be consoling and freeing.

What about resilience? you ask.
Life has a resilient bent
That helps us deal with challenges
And face what we can't circumvent.

You know the saying, the old cliché:
Here today; gone tomorrow.
Our attitude will determine whether
Our life is full of happiness or sorrow.

Live each moment, love others,
Learn constantly, and plan ahead.
Just remember that ultimately,
Everything hangs by a tenuous thread.

- by Bob B

All is not well in Trumplandia we hear.
Investigations are closing in,
And all efforts to find or maintain
Integrity are wearing thin.

Untold uncertainty looms;
Unhealed sores are starting to fester.
The leadership position has been
Usurped by the court jester.

Vultures wait in anticipation
While jackals feast on defenseless lambs.
The court jester has wily perfected
And art of confusing facts and shams.

The naïve crowds hear "Hoax!" and "Fiction!"
And think the jester is being funny.
Their grating cheers drown out the call:
"Follow the money! Follow the money!"

Snake oil is in demand.
Distractions are the name of the game.
The focus has shifted from seeking the truth
And doing what's right to passing the blame.

Structures are crumbling, and yet the push
Is mainly on finding the wherewithal
To place on the country's southern border
An unnecessary wall.

In the Big House, day after day,
The leaders are playing musical chairs.
While donors and supporters watch,
Their eyes carefully guarding their shares.

Credit is taken where credit's not due;
Trust and dependability scatter.
A dream come true to a few becomes
A nightmare when the wrong things matter.

All is not well in Trumplandia.
Shhh! The world can't know. But wait!
You say the cat is out of the bag?
Then it's too late! It's way too late!

-by Bob B (8-5-17)

A truck picked them up near the Mexican border
And drove across Texas in blistering heat.
A hundred or more were crammed together
With nothing to drink and nothing to eat.

The big rig rolled down the Texas highway
Heading for San Antonio, they say.
Smugglers would pick up their "cargo" there,
And SUVs would cart them away.

The temperature inside the tractor-
Trailer was over 100 degrees.
The door of the trailer was locked from the outside.
The driver ignored the passengers' pleas.

Chorus:
Farewell, dear friends--queridos amigos.
Were you a father, a brother, a son?
Whatever your motivations, you
All were victims in more ways than one.

When authorities found the vehicle
And opened the door and looked inside,
Eight of the passengers remaining
In the tractor-trailer had died.

Two more victims died in the hospital.
Others remained in a critical state.
Dehydration and heatstroke had been
Cruel agents of their sad fate.

Desperate to find better conditions,
They learned that success is not guaranteed.
Hopes can be dashed and life can be threatened
When you're a victim of smugglers' greed.

Chorus:
Farewell, dear friends--queridos amigos.
Were you a father, a brother, a son?
Whatever your motivations, you
All were victims in more ways than one.

(7-25-17) By Bob B

Social Media has changed our lives
In ways both good and bad.
Will it stick around or is it
Just a temporary fad?

Know people's current location.
Even see what they had for dinner!
Find out election results:
Who's the loser? Who's the winner?

Keep abreast of births and deaths,
Parties, weddings and celebrations.
Send your condolences,
Comments or congratulations.

Read up on current trends;
Catch the latest breaking news.
Share a joke or witty saying;
Find out people's political views.

Watch a video clip or listen
To a friend's brand-new song.
Post your favorite recipe.
(Hey, with that you can't go wrong.)

Read a poem or view people's
Photo albums on their wall.
Sift through scores of unchecked "facts."
Yes, Facebook has it all.

Sometimes there is TMI;
Sometimes there is not enough.
Sometimes there is powerful info;
Sometimes there's a lot of fluff.

You don't have to read my postings.
No, that would not offend me.
However, if you choose to block them,
I'd prefer that you unfriend me.

- by Bob B

(This poem can be sung to the melody of "Tammy" by Jay Livingston and Raymond B. Evans.)

You topped TV's televangelist scene.
Tammy Faye, Tammy Faye, you were the queen.
When hubby Jim Bakker was forced to come clean,
Tammy Faye, Tammy Faye, you were still queen.
Will we ever know
What it was
That made you tick?
And people still wonder why
Your make-up was so thick.
We can still picture your face with its sheen.
Tammy Faye, Tammy Faye, you were the queen.

When other preachers were badmouthing gays,
Tammy Faye, you had new pathways to blaze.
You offered them love in so many kind ways,
Even though there was much money to raise.
When the world was cruel,
So very cruel,
To people with AIDS,
Compassion for them became
One of your crusades.
Although people blasted your actions and mien,
Nonetheless, Tammy Faye, you were the queen.

-by Bob B (9-21-21)

Overwhelmed by so much to do,
And concerned that things would only get worse,
God decided to reevaluate
And take stock of His universe.
 
“I know it’s small in the scheme of things,
But I have to say, for what it’s worth,
One of my favorite projects was
A little planet known as Earth.
 
“What a beautiful place it was—
Forests thick with towering trees,
Emerald valleys, golden fields,
Crystal lakes, and unspoiled seas!
 
“But, oh, my goodness, look how man
Has managed to the nth degree
To sabotage my work of art!
Good intentions backfired on me.
 
“Majestic forests: disappearing;
Gorgeous valleys: barren mounds;
Lakes and seas: polluted waters;
Golden fields: dumping grounds.
 
“I gave people ears to hear with,
But no one listens anymore;
I gave people hearts to feel with,
Yet feeling has gone out the door.
 
“I gave people eyes to see with,
Yet so many folks are blind;
I gave people brains to think with;
What has happened to their mind?
 
“Instead of helping their fellow man,
Out of anger they hurt and maim.
Instead of peacefully living together,
They fight their battles in my name.
 
“WHY is there such reluctance
To offer aid to those in need?
Generosity and sharing
Both have been replaced by greed.
 
“The measurement of countries’ success
Unfortunately corresponds,
Not to taking care of the people,
But to GNP and stocks and bonds.
 
“People also use my name
To justify their cruel hate.
Why can’t more see me as LOVE.
Now THAT truly would be great.
 
“They love to put words in my mouth
And claim to know my secret thoughts;
Then they try to control others.
People, you don’t call the shots!
 
“Having had so much to work with,
Folks should easily get along.
So either this was meant to happen,
Or my experiment went wrong.
 
“When considering the laws of nature,
I included circumspection.
HA! I guess that we can say
I’m perfect in my imperfection.
 
“There’s one good thing about this, though:
All things must pass. So maybe I’m
Going to have much more success
When I make an Earth next time.”

- by Bob B

"Never again." We have said
“Never again!” too many times.
The hours advance, leaving us
With doleful reminders when the clock chimes.

“Never again” echoes through
The deep canyons of empty hearts
As irretrievable hopes remain
Buried by anguish that never departs.

"Never again" emerged through pain--
Through unspeakable affliction,
Horrified by the shamelessness
Of facts being smothered by fiction.

"Never again" for a moment
Rose from yearnings, deep and profound
Until woeful indifference
Muffled the once inspirited sound.

"Never again" filled a chasm
Of bleak despair with promising goals,
Without which we're on the cliffs of uncertainty,
Constantly asking for whom the bell tolls.

-by Bob B (11-11-18)

Something has happened, and I'd be remiss
If I neglected to tell you this:
There's reason to worry, but try to calm down.
Acrobat is back in town!
His ancestors lived at the Long Beach Pike
Starting way back in the days of Ike.
You have a right to be concerned,
For people all over the town have been burned.
Not a very good diplomat
Is Acrobat, the harbor cat.

When you're dining, be on guard:
He doesn't leave a calling card.
Calamari has its appeal,
But sushi is Acrobat's favorite meal.
He'll ****** the salmon right off of the rice.
(He much prefers seafood to mice.)
Before fried cod can touch your lips,
He'll steal the fish but leave the chips.
He doesn't need a welcome mat--
Not Acrobat, the harbor cat.

At barbecues it's always unclear
How certain items can disappear.
So if you are missing a sausage or two,
A chicken leg, or even a few,
It's not too hard to believe, is it,
That Acrobat was paying a visit?
Swiping food for him is a cinch.
But rodents…well…they'll do in a pinch.
Be on the lookout if you are a rat
For Acrobat, the harbor cat.

There are some who can outfox a fox.
Just after dawn on the fishing docks,
Out of the blue, someone yells, "Wait!
What has happened to all my bait?"
While he stands there scratching his head,
They say that behind the cleaning shed,
Hidden among the buckets and mops,
Acrobat sits, licking his chops.
He won't hang around and stay for a chat--
Not Acrobat, the harbor cat.

Now Acrobat, a cagey sort,
Doesn't believe in child support.
He WON'T help raise his progeny
And blames it all on phylogeny.
He's quite the dandy and quite the cad.
But watch out if you make him mad.
I would wager that many regret
Ignoring him as a credible threat.
You really want to avoid a spat
With Acrobat, the harbor cat.

-by Bob B (1-23-20)

The Trump thank-me rallies continue
As Trump hops from state to state,
Expecting applause and adulation
From loyal fans who congregate.

Trying to sound presidential
Is a challenge for one ill-equipped
To speak without a teleprompter
And sound articulate when off script.

To Trump press conferences
Are useless, senseless rigmarole.
He is more comfortable
Tweeting and being an Internet troll.

But how he loves his thank-me rallies!
He can stand on the stage and address
All of his vague promises
Without questions from the press.

Cheering crowds of people show up,
Praising Trump's theatricality.
Funny, many supporters share
The man's alternate reality.

- by Bob B (12-14-16)

Kellyanne Conjob rushed to defend
Trump's penchant for telling lies.
The repercussions of his untruths
She smilingly tried to minimize.

Her brazenly obnoxious comments
Simply add fuel to the fire
And diminish her credibility
When she bolsters the words of a liar.

Excusing impropriety
Is clearly what she's doing, and yet her
Remarks make him sound foolish when
She says he doesn't know any better.

According to Kellyanne's logic here--
And give her a D minus for trying--
Trump is not telling untruths
If he doesn't believe he is lying.

- by Bob B (7-26-17)

Welcome to Trumplandia--
Where truth and falsehood collide,
And voters blindly commit
Political suicide;

Where people vote for a man
Because he "speaks his mind"
And don't care how many
People he's maligned;

Where general politeness
And a thin veneer of civility
Are worn away as bigotry
Finds acceptability;

Where extremist views
Completely transmogrify
The democratic process,
And justice and clarity die;

Where clever speeches ignite
Passions that become scary,
And governing becomes
A concern that's secondary;

Where in the guise of freedom
Of religion, people create
Laws that give them the right
To cruelly discriminate;

Where there's baseless distrust
Of scholarly opinions
And the leader prefers his UN-
Educated minions;

Where equal and civil rights
For which people fought
For many, many years
Sadly come to naught;

Where the middle class
Through clever bait and switch
Are talked into providing
Tax breaks for the rich;

Where facts become suspect.
The leader makes it clear:
Invented "facts" are the only
Facts he wants to hear;

Where freedom of speech is stifled,
And millions do not squawk
When the ones in power
Turn back the clock;

Where people need a scapegoat
And constantly look for someone
To blame and do not think
That they could also become one;

Where values, tolerance, morals,
Compassion, and decency fade
While anger and xenophobia
Are on a vicious crusade.

Welcome to Trumplandia.
America, farewell.
Bemoan the ever deepening
Crack in the Liberty Bell.

- by Bob B (12-5-16)

The first presidential contest
In fifty years--to be exact--
Without full protection of
The badly needed Voting Rights Act

Occurred this year--in 2016.
Fourteen states--we must note--
Had implemented voting restrictions
Making it harder for some to vote.

Trump complained of a rigged election,
Which the media devoured in haste;
But little time was spent showing
The REAL threat that voters faced.

Voting restrictions are plaguing the nation--
Just ONE example of far-right aggression.
The fight for rights continues as we
Fight against voter suppression.

- by Bob B (12-9-16)

WHO are we really?
The person that we display
To others can’t be “real”—
We keep so much at bay.
 
Parent, sibling, relative,
Friend, acquaintance, foe—
Each relationship differs.
Do we ever completely let go?
 
Are you too guarded and cautious
To say what you believe?
Or do you speak your thoughts
And wear your heart on your sleeve?
 
Are you focused on you—
Whoever this “you” may be?
Are you truly aware of
The forest beyond the tree?
 
The incredible journey inward
Is a path that few people travel,
For once beyond the façade,
Self-concepts start to unravel.
 
Face the core of being—
Naked and alone—
And comprehend ideas
Previously unknown,
 
And come to the realization—
From whatever might befall—
That we are NOT alone,
But really one with all?
 
Our complex personalities
Are as varied as the books on our shelves.
How well do we know other people?
How well do we know ourselves?

- by Bob B

He rode into town like a wannabe--
The town we'll simply call D.C.--
And sat back with his feet upon the desk.
He brought his team--a ruthless bunch,
Most of whom are out to lunch
And operate in a manner quite grotesque.

Yep, a real phenomenon--
This man known as Teflon Don…

It didn't take long for him
To know he had to sink or swim
And this guy was determined not to sink.
Confuse and befuddle, he said,
And that's how he would get ahead:
By practicing the art of doublethink.

Yep, a real phenomenon--
This man known as Teflon Don…

Undo progress done before,
Defy the critics keeping score,
And do not worry if you sound uncouth.
Such was the man's M.O.
To win he knew he must let go
Of any close connection with the truth.

Yep, a real phenomenon--
This man known as Teflon Don…

Trusting not his experts here,
He let Putin have his ear,
And yet his fans never seemed to mind.
He could do no wrong, they felt.
Such is how the cards were dealt.
And how they hate it when their man's maligned!

Yep, a real phenomenon--
This man known as Teflon Don…

He can lie, cheat, and steal,
Come on strong and cop a feel,
And some say even get away with killing.
And yet his fans will all bow down
And do obeisance to their clown,
Which others find incredibly blood chilling.

Yep, a real phenomenon--
This man known as Teflon Don…

-by Bob B (2-26-19)

Trump thinks that his phones were tapped
During the campaign season.
If that had been the case, there had to
Have been a very good reason.

If intelligence agencies
Did indeed suspect
Questionable activity
Worthy of being checked,

Maybe they did tap his phones.
But James Clapper° denies it.
Another example of Trump crying "Wolf!"?
We know how often he tries it.

Or is it just one more distraction
To steer us away from how
Trump and certain Republican friends
Are ******* us over right now

By talking of vouchers; talking of limiting
Freedom of expression;
And making a mess of health care, which
Has been their constant obsession;

And letting people discriminate
Based on religious convictions--
An insult to equal rights and they
Can see no contradictions.

Trump's team and Russians have had
Frequent conversations.
Whatever the topics, we know they weren't
Mere congratulations.

Perhaps it's just Trump's paranoia
Coming to the fore.
What started out as a joke isn't
Funny anymore.

- by Bob B (3-5-17)

°Former Director of National Intelligence

Dear illustrious Republicans in Congress,
You can run, but don't think you can hide,
As more Americans come to understand
How you've taken the people for a ride.

A tax reform bill you call it. Please!
Doesn't it more resemble a tax deformity?
Or better yet a vicious and outrageous
And monstrous act known as an enormity?

Something wasn't on the up-and-up.
Your great desire for secrecy underscores
The fact that you were hiding something big
When you wrote the bill behind closed doors.

Your suspicious need to rush it through
Made us wonder why you'd vote to embed it
In our system of laws when there were many
Members of Congress who hadn't even read it.

Hasn't the thought ever occurred to you
That one doesn't have to be a ****
To see your great desire to pass a bill
Before people could see how bad it is?

You'll make your donors happy; that is true.
Their money hasn't lost its strong appeal.
Now you have to convince the people you've *******
How they are all getting a wonderful deal.

What a bold redistribution of wealth
To rich Americans, who will benefit most!
You pulled off an outrageous scam,
And then you raised your glass and made a toast.

That millions lose their health care doesn't faze you.
The deficit? Oh, that's an easy fix.
You'll just target Americans' earned benefits.
(That's how Paul Ryan gets his kicks.)

Go ahead: throw us under the bus.
Expect, however, that people will verbally smite you.
Prepare for consequences of your actions:
Your callous decision will soon come back to bite you.

-by Bob B (12-20-17)

They sit on their comfy couches
In their stuffy suits and ties
Or their stylish sleeveless dresses,
Expounding pernicious lies.

Promoting "purposeful ignorance"
As well as "aggressive stupidity,"
They inadvertently show
Their frightful lack of lucidity.

Facts are unimportant.
(The same for credibility?)
Expert manipulators,
They manage with great facility

To lead a gullible public
Into their intricate maze
Of wildly spurious claims
And specious reporting malaise.

Carefully selected "experts"
Throw in their two cents
While fawning interviewers
Come to their defense.

Masters of hypnosis,
They put thinkers to sleep--
The ones caught in their spell
Are led around like sheep.

And they have the audacity
To refer to themselves as "news."
That must be part of their strategy--
Their well-crafted ruse.

Control the minds of the people
And you will secure great power
To sustain them with propaganda
Hour after hour after hour….

- by Bob B

It's Christmastime in Trumplandia.
The halls are decked with boughs of folly,
Ol' Frosty the Snowman is melting,
And sleigh bells are sounding melancholy.

The president has an abundance of hassles:
Ongoing investigations,
Failed attempts at accomplishments,
Embarrassments, and accusations.

He believes his supporting staff
Will help him work out all the kinks
And claims he's the favorite president!
Something is rotten in DC, methinks.

Wondering why he can't wield
More power, he disdains
Anyone who makes an attempt
To open his eyes or pull on his reins.

He'll pick a fight with anyone
Who doesn't give him flattery or praise.
Many devoted staff and supporters
Apparently share the leader's malaise.

Not trusting true experts,
He looks elsewhere for his muse:
At Alex Jones, Hannity,
Or the vicious harpy who haunts Fox News.

He says he hires the best people--
Not!--and knows what's best for the nation.
He's backing a candidate for the Senate
Who's been accused of child molestation.

His organization is raking in dough,
While Trump insists he's breaking no laws.
Why not follow the foreign money?
And what about the emoluments clause?

His favorite world leaders are
Autocrats who aren't so pleasant.
Their mutual ****-kissing will have to
Be their mutual Christmas present.

Santa Trump and his elves in Congress
Are working together in order to dole
Tax breaks out to the wealthiest, while
The rest of us will end up with coal.

Chestnuts won't be roasting on
An open fire this year. No way!
Our winter wonderland's become
A messy winter holiday.

-by Bob B (11-28-17)

Margaret was more than a family friend;
She also taught me to play the piano.
Once in while she'd have me sing,
When I was still a kid soprano.

I wasn't a gifted piano player.
In fact, I was far from it.
And the stage fright at recitals:
I never could overcome it.

I never practiced as much as I should have,
Which was obvious in my playing.
I'd never become a concert pianist.
That, of course, went without saying.

Yet Margaret never scolded me
Whenever I came unprepared
To my weekly piano lesson--
A little nervous, a little scared.

I would play an exercise
And utterly butcher the innocent piece.
"That one needs a little more work,"
She'd say. Then my fears would cease.

I studied with her for many years--
From childhood through my early teens.
My lessons were not a means to an end;
The end was entirely the means.

Spending time on the piano bench
With Margaret on a chair by my side
Is ingrained in my heart:
Time spent with my mentor and guide.

Instilling the love of music in me,
She was definitely my muse.
Music is a life-changing gift--
A blessing I hope never to lose.

I learned that life can bring happiness,
But also times of sadness and loss.
Margaret developed a brain tumor.
There'd be a river of sorrow to cross.

How could such a wonderful person--
And talented, too--capitulate
To illness? Then I faced the truth:
Cancer doesn't discriminate.

When Margaret died, to me all music
Sounded like a dolorous dirge.
But with time, the glorious sounds
Slowly began to reemerge.

She had taught me so much more
Than how to plunk on piano keys.
How sad it would be if ever the wondrous
Notes faded from our memories.

Music's a powerful force in our lives.
Without it I wonder where we would be.
There's one thing that I know for certain:
Margaret will always be music to me.

- by Bob B

It's very disturbing to hear people say
That they wholeheartedly object
To being forced to weigh their words
And having to be politically correct.

Forgetting the crassness of earlier times,
They want to return to the careless days
When Jews were called horrible things;
When blacks weren't "blacks" and gays weren't "gays";

When Native Americans were called "redskins";
When despicable names were given to our foes,
And children were taught horribly racist
"Eeny, meeny, miny, moes."

People didn't "cheat" you, they "gyped" you;
The Irish and Italians were both called names;
"Eskimo" was a generalized term;
Men referred to women as "dames."

Mute people were "dumb" back then;
Latinos and Asians were called names, too.
It seems that derogatory words
Were seldom if ever considered taboo.

Will decency and respect both
Be tossed out the window? Please say no.
We can't return to the ignorant days
Of racist jokes and slurs and Jim Crow.

Being a considerate human means
Sometimes bearing a heavy load.
Our lack of sensitivity
Can lead us down a dangerous road.

- by Bob B

D.T.:
Why does everybody
Always want to see
My tax returns?
If I could have a secret,
It really ought to be
My tax returns.
Inflating values to get your loans:
There is really nothing to it.
Deflating values to lower taxes:
Doesn’t everybody do it?

Why do prosecutors
Want to have in hand
My tax returns?
I don’t think it’s fair
That they can all demand
My tax returns.
When you’re rich, doesn’t that mean
You should get a little break?
I’m in trouble mainly because
I give far less than I take.

I’m being hassled
‘Cause I want to hide
My tax returns.
Judges are stupid
To say I must provide
My tax returns.
If they say I committed fraud,
I’ll say that’s just fake news.
If they try to make me talk,
I will simply refuse!

I know that my fans
Don’t give a hoot about
My tax returns.
I can cheat and they’ll say that’s okay.
Winning means having all the right tools
To maneuver your way around the rules.
I’m *******
Because I have to show
MY TAX RETURNS!

-by Bob B (2-26-21)