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Insults, Covid, Fear and Strife,
Banter, Boasting, Blame-game rife;
Media jostling for prime view,
Spinning stories, quite a brew;
Politicians reveling in their game,
Twitching, Gloating, craving fame.

Passions raging amongst some
Gasping for their day to come,
Spewing sentence with each breath
A wrong outcome same as death;
Facebook, Twitter set alight,
As they preach into the night.

To us spectators looking on,
With eyes averted, gaze forlorn,
We can but wonder, whisper soft
How this cannot but one exhaust,
When every day the squealing drowns
Rays of hope that reason pounds.

Yet the sun still rises in the sky
With chirping birds that Autumn winds seem amplify,
Where trees murmur in the breeze,
Waving to gently falling leaves,
With air that’s fresh and light surrounds,
Whilst in our chest life's hope abounds.
Robert Ippaso Sep 30
Bitter, battered, bruised and spent
Throwing punches aimed to dent,
Bobbing, weaving, sighing loud,
Gladiators playing to the crowd.

Armed with words that cut like steel
Inflicting wounds that won't fast heal,
Nostrils flaring, bulging eyes,
Parrying blows with stifled sighs.

Indignation, slights of old,
Each man's purpose bitter, cold,
One sole aim, that fatal blow,
Boiling anger on full show.

As to us the silent horde
Stunned by this discordant chord,
We watch and wonder how we came
To such a place so sad and lame.

Is this all we now deserve
Screeching buzzards without verve,
Gone the poise, the weathered charm
Just two sluggers out to harm?
Francie Lynch Aug 26
They live a life of dissipation,
Take up space in every nation;
Denounce Science deliberations,
Hide the truth through litigation;
They emit no illumination,
Preach an altered fact narration.
They support, by oration,
The Elephant's abdication,
And neglect of obligation.

     They won't wear masks.
     Or wash their hands;
     Won't give six feet
     In their wasteland.

     They cry foul,
     They cry hoax,
     But they won't cry
     When you die, Folks.
The Republican Party is a disgraceful collection of Trump racists, sexists, bigomists, and children haters. Yes, children. Look what the Conways did to theirs.

those masks
don’t hide
your sin
very well

with every inch
of our blood
we crave for
the soft life

the street is bloated
with pus of greed
while fresh wounds seek
the hand of virtue

for the tired, in reparation
for the made, in rumination
for the hurting, in salubrity
for the fallen, in solidarity
written in additive form progression: 1 word, 2 words, 3 words, etc.
Robert Ippaso Feb 20
Did you watch it, what a show
Little Mikey slammed around,
Battered slowly blow by blow
With accusations that astound.

Pocahontas on the war path,
She’s the one that wields the axe,
Indignation, poisoned wrath
Her solutions just more tax.

Crazy Bernie full of zeal
Flaring nostrils squinting eyes,
Somewhat bridled brought to heel,
Marxist fervor cut to size.

Sleepy Joe clearly not there
A hologram appearing in his place,
To his chances not a prayer
Slipping badly from the race

Mayor Pete, Amy who?
Going at it head to head,
Lots of insults, no breakthrough
Further progress all but dead.

So who won you might well ask
All who watched could that one see,
There's but one person for the task
And that person's clearly me.
Robert Ippaso Feb 16
“Comrade Bernie's in full swing
Arms flailing, fingers pointing,
Like a possessed puppet on a string
To his legions never disappointing.”

“We're a movement young and strong
Forward thinking, kind to all,
They call us mad but that's so wrong
Such a thought takes quite some gall”.

“We in turn look on bemused
The Stars and Stripes turning to the Sickle,
To put it mildly we're confused
Democrats floundering in a pickle.”

“Little do they understand
Momentum's on our side;
From our crusade we'll never bend
We march united like the tide.”

“Yet Trump's laughing with great glee
Re-election firmly in his sight,
Bernie's pitch a hollow plea
Republicans itching for the fight.”

“They may mock us, underrate
Wait and see, watch and learn;
Our revolution simply fate,
Love the man, feel the Bern.

Who is wrong and who is right
In this battle for our hearts,
One thing’s sure it will be tight
Once we get through all the barbs.
Robert Ippaso Nov 2019
Whispers and innuendo,
Partisan politics tearing us apart,
Grandstanding and deflection,
Are we not placing the horse before the cart?

A divisive President
This much we all agree,
But our actions matter,
This surely we must see.

Impeachment is not the answer
When facts are merely ploys,
Interpreted, discarded,
Like a child’s forgotten toys.

Democrats all shouting,
Republicans dismayed,
Eye rolls and bluster,
Each entrenched not to be swayed.

Forgotten the crumbling bridges,
The misery of those without a roof,
Healthcare that’s little caring,
Policies enacted on the hoof.

Progressives on soap boxes,
Berating us to change our ways,
Ditch the cars, eat just plants
You haven’t years, but merely days.

Conservatives all hiding,
Resistance the key word,
Dig more coal, farm those parks,
Their inverted thinking so absurd.

Are we all this angry
That reason we can’t find.
Have our senses dissipated
To the point of turning blind?

What legacy our children,
A society torn apart,
Our moral compass lost,
A sail-less boat without a chart.
Francie Lynch Nov 2019
Charles didn't heed the Puritans
He was God's appointed,
Anointed and empowered.
He tumbled from above,
Down through the law,
Lost his head.

Nicholas was placed in the basement crypt,
A cult-like condemnation;
So they stood him against the wall,
He listed to his Monk,
His reasoning debunked,
So they shot the anointed one
On his golden throne.

Benito was above the law,
High on meat hooks.
Could we dare to look?

If you were lucky,
If you were tied to a stake,
And the ******* ignited,
Someone dear would tie a bag
Of gunpowder around your neck.
Why let the crows pick out his eyes,
Make golden nests from his hair.
End the torture. Pull the life-line.
Sever the head from the body politic.
It is the righteous thing to do;
It is the civil thing to do
In pensive state.
Rise up from your ashes.
It is the kindest cut of all.
Robert Ippaso Oct 2019
God what a mess,
My head is spinning,
Each day more stress,
Am I still winning?

Wall street crashing,
The economy near stall,
The media’s constant bashing,
Pelosi’s new curve ball.

My plans are now in tatters,
Forestalled at every turn,
To do what really matters
Is all I truly yearn.

I’m gearing for a fight
The like they’ve never seen,
I use my mouth to bite
And care little if I’m mean.

I’ll tear each one to shreds,
Flail them side to side,
Get well into their heads,
Give them quite a ride.

Clearly they don’t know
The grief they have in store,
They’ll reap what they now sow,
It’s nothing short of war.

Like Bombers flying high
Releasing their payload,
Shells falling from the sky,
I’ll give them what they’re owed.

Cross me once
And risk my wrath,
Yours the choice
To take that path.

Cross me twice
And stay awake,
You’ve cast your dice,
What a mistake.
Robert Ippaso Sep 2019
My head’s in a swirl
So much on my plate
But I’ll give this a whirl,
To prove I’m so great.

No need to read up
On subjects galore,
Like tea from a cup
I can always drink more.

The world’s not so hard
To figure it out,
I keep up my guard
And my character flout.

Kim’s just a breeze,
Putin’s quite tough,
The former I squeeze,
The latter I bluff.

The Saudi’s are great
I know all their tricks,
To them I just state:
You break it, you fix.

Iran is a pain,
A hard one to solve,
It’s me that they blame,
Their sins to absolve.

But China’s the key,
The bane of my life
And just like a flea,
It’s nothing but strife.

When all’s said and done
I’m good at this game,
There isn’t a one
I can’t fully tame.

This all goes to show
I’m the man for the job,
While democrats crow
The election I rob.
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