We don't like jokes in India
Our beloved leaders are so pure
We cannot stand the slightest tainting
Their lilly-whiteness might endure

Our happy comrad may be an ape
Perhaps a rabbit, a dog or a snake,
But even if he were a crocodile
His impeccability should never be at stake

Our happy fists will help you to recall
The mercy and the strength of our leaders
Grace, wit and reason we don't need
Now go to Pakistan, you and your readers

a first
family has
never ending
wilt this
statistician's score
and old
yeller on
top of
the scene
there with
his bullhorn
only there
to shout
as his
tweets mount
across the
inteenet dial

an isle
of wealth
reclusively habitat
if credible
view of
turkeys when
feeding themselves
upon trumps
and there
is coming
this inhabitated
third world
now arbitral
very watchful
of nature
where it
has delved.

I recently learned about
A Frenchman called Firmin Didot
Who invented the idea of replica parts
To speed up the accurate printing of newspapers
Its name entered the dictionary in 1850
14 years after Didot’s death
His name is now a webfont

I subsequently learned about
An American called Walter Lipmann
Who used Didot’s invention’s name
In criticism of the mass-printed newspapers
For influencing readers’ perceptions of reality
86 years after Didot’s death
The name of his invention:
The Stereotype

An Englishwoman distress
when her remark finesse
her pebble with her hand
when sororities clothier allure
welcome ****** tourists that mall require band
when with a carafe round eleven these bargain hunters enliven extra browsing with delite wrap on pleasance in Kuala Lumpur.

As we press on into the future we must remember the past to slingshot forward into what is to become
we mustn't ever forget what we were to become who we are
or forgot what we've done to create something new

A merger
in trust
for maddow's
a bust
that make
her square
with her
offense that
snare deeds
that evoke
innuendos with
republicans that
newly file
returns these
later dates
and oft-counter
claims inside.

I COMPOSED A POEM ABOUT
PRESIDENT DONALD TRUMP
MY ADMIRER THINKS I AM ASININE

MY HEART WAS HURT
MY SOUL WAS TORN
MAYBE THEY WILL HEAL
WITH THE PASSING OF TIME


I JUST COMPOSE POEMS ON WHAT I SEE
AND I AM GLAD THEY EVOKE EMOTION
I WONDER WHAT MY TRUMP BOOK WILL REVEAL
FROM WAY ACROSS THE OCEAN

DONALD TRUMP BANS THE PRESS
FROM ANY WHITE HOUSE NEWS
THIS IS AGAINST THE CONSTITUTION
FOR THE PRESS TOO EXPRESS THERE VIEWS



FOR 200 YEARS THE WASHINGTON PRESS
HAVE LET THE PUBLIC KNOW
A FACTUAL LOOK AT THE WHITE HOUSE
AND ALL THE POLITICIANS THAT ARE ON SHOW



SO NOW PRESIDENT TRUMP WILL NOT TELL
THE PRESS BUT ONLY DO HIS TWEETS
FOR THE AMERICAN PEOPLE WILL ONLY KNOW
THAT PRESIDENT TRUMP WONT EXCEPT DEFEAT

Grow, grow, growing grow
Taller, wider, deeper, steeper

Topsoil cracking
Foundations creaking
Interstitial water leaking
Gases pluming
Sun too hot

Birds forgetting how to fly
Flies all set to multiply
Central heating turned up high

Fish recumbent on the sands
Hail brave campaigning elephants
Who rampage through
the concrete jungle
eviscerating 4WDs
with tusks awry
trunks outstretched
eyes akimbo

Vanguard of a worldwide army
of feather scale and bone
all stitched up
By might is right
into a threadbare tapestry of deprivation

Today we spread, we glow, we grow

In rampaging delight we gag
on feather, bone and scale
We suffocate ourselves

Tomorrow
The earth will fry
And so might I

Is this the way to end our poem

© Diana Korchien 2012