You, yew and ewe.
New, knew and gnu.
Two, too and to.
Do, dew and doo.
Your, you’re, ewer and yore.
Sower, sewer and even sore.

Pin, pen
Win, wen.
Tin, ten.
Bin, been.

For, four, and fore.
Poor, pour and pore.
Bear, bare and bayer.
There, their and they’re.
Sure, sewer, shore and shower.
Censor, censure, sensor, censer.

Din, den.
Kin, ken.
Win, wen.
Yin, yen.

Shoulda, coulda and woulda,
Wanna, hafta and hadda.
Pitchers painted of pitchers
Ree-lutters instead of realtors.
Pertecting you with protection.
Prescribing you a perscription.
A different kind of differnse,
For instance, gimme a frinstance.

Pin, pen
Win, wen.
Tin, ten.
Bin, been.
Din, den.
Kin, ken.
Win, wen.
Yin, yen.

The Dummocraps and RepubLIE-CONs
Are engaged in a devastating war.
The RepubLIE-CONs hate everyone
The Dummocraps hate decisions more.
While the RepubLIE-CONs are engaged
In selling away the public’s rights,
The Dummocraps fight among themselves
And bring confusion to the fight.

So, the RepubLIE-CONs don’t need
To bother tearing Dummocraps down,
They just stand back and watch while
Dummocraps knock each other around.
Any effort the Dummocraps try to make
Ends on a pathetically useless note
Because over half the Dummocraps
Don’t even bother to go and vote.

The RepubLIE-CONs, on the other hand
Have an insane, but vocal minority
That are paid very well to do as told
By an even smaller, rich minority.
So, a country that is mentally lazy
And generally stupid in the bargain,
Lets itself get tangled up in lies
Propaganda and obfuscating jargon.

It’s all really that easy, it seems
When you look at what is true.
The voters in this country feel
That voting is too hard a thing to do.
So, they sit on their ***** and then
Complain at every law they pass
That robs them of their place in life
And destroys all but the upper class.

We are the Republicans!
Kneel and bow!
We are superior!
All kowtow!
We deal in campaign funds
Hand and fist.
We believe in oligarchy
With a twist!

We hate democracy
We spit in our hats.
We hate all poor people
Especially Democrats.
We think equality
Is a crime.
Back to the nineteenth century
Doubletime.

There is no place here
In our fine land
Where we give the votes
To our field hands
And women who should all
Be in the kitchen
Instead of out carrying signs
And publically *******.

We are the Republicans!
Kneel and bow!
We are superior!
All kowtow!
We deal in campaign funds
Hand and fist.
We believe in oligarchy
With a twist!

We believe in the Bible which
We mostly never read.
We think all non-Christians
Should be dead.
At least they should not be
Allowed to vote.
That kind of godlessness
Gets our goat.

The only kind of righteous men
Are our own kind.
Not gays, blacks and Mexicans!
What are you, blind?
We ran the show right all along
*******!
The day the other kinds acted up
Was an evil hour.

We are the Republicans!
Kneel and bow!
We are superior!
All kowtow!
We deal in campaign funds
Hand and fist.
We believe in oligarchy
With a twist!

I poeticize, proselytize
Punctuate and pontificate.
I write couplets and rhymes
And I really do it all the time.
I exacerbate and exaggerate
With no desire to intimidate.
I make similes and metaphors
Indoors and even out of doors.

There’s cussing and discussion
And sharp literary impressions
Through diversions, conversions
Allusions as well as conclusions.
And with luck, no delusions.
Just syllabically deft fusions
Of some deferential references
With a deft touch of reverence.

I rhyme thyme with fresh lime
And cardamom with cinnamon.
Sweetbreads and shortbreads.
Chicken bones and licking scones.
Rhyming pumpkins with dumplings
And matching up filets with filberts
Just as cocoa goes well with Kona.
Marmalade can be a good marinade.

I rhyme chrome wheels and automobiles,
Freeway off-ramps and Tiffany lamps.
Cellophane and vintage airplanes.
Flapper vamps and streetwalking tramps.
Also Cinderella coaches and cockroaches,
Nothing is unfair game to a busy poet.
As well as RCA Victors and boa constrictors.
Since I’m a poet, everyone should know it.

Costume clowns
And closet clones
Clutter up my world.
Simulated simians,
Both boys and girls,
Ricochet like rifle shots
In the hallways of my dreams.
Honeyed hectoring
Always more than it seems.

Missing messages
And mumbled grumbling,
I find it quite humbling
That my rhetoric is glistening
To discover nobody is listening.
But be assured, at its root
Disdain will not make me mute.

Despite the confusion
Created by collusion,
And the babble of rabble
That grapple inside my brain
What will remain after
This noisy war is done,
It will definitely be won.
The race will be run
Because I am number one!

“Orange doesn’t rhyme.”
Well, that’s what we were taught.
So, what it really needs is
Some careful new thought.

So, just for a moment
Let’s get a bit strange;
Let’s take the word ‘orange’
And let us deftly rearrange.
It can become something
Like ‘no rage’ instead.
Doesn’t that fit much more
Comfortably inside the head
And inside your rhyme scheme
As you gleefully poeticize
And smoothly abandon
The conundrum of other guys?

For instance, change orange:
On gear a transmission,
In discussion, ‘go near’?
Maybe some kind of Russian?
“An gore?’, on of Vidal’s children?
Or maybe like ‘Ego ran’,
A stuck-up jogging chicken?
‘Graneo’, something to call
Mother’s mom, if you’re hip?
“Groane’, an archaic manner
To let a moan escape your lips.
‘No gare’, a French gate
Too far away to easily use.
‘Neo gar’, a species of fish
That is sometimes in the news.

That doesn’t not signal
The orange issue surrender.
It just means I am willing
To consider almost any other
Way to look at this word
Another entire way instead
For this rather comfortable color
Halfway between yellow and red.

Soccer moms and sander scars
Suburban life is strange.
Play dates and in-line skates
Schedules to re-arrange.
Yoga teachers and lay preachers
And those are not a metaphor.
Costco trips and air-kiss lips
Nobody trusts a bachelor.

Coupon savers in SUVs
Never use turn signals.
Driving while chatting hands-free
Wearing golden **** whistles.
Appointments to make daily
With exercise gurus.
Cocktail luncheons for charity
Toddlers wearing tutus.

Traffic jams of cars and vans
Honking at each other.
Double parking on narrow streets
Calling each other mothers.
Starting out fifteen minutes late
As is the usual way.
Somehow never figuring out how
To have an on-time day.

Screeching home a night in time
To throw together a meal.
Watch television with family
And pretend that is all real.
Put the kids to bed right on time
Try to have quality time.
While the other half is half-asleep
From that second glass of wine.