Water trickling down into the river:
from clouds God's Spirit, like a dove, descends,
as a voice proclaims, My Son the life-giver.

On the sable hair of our forgiver
droplets form, as Jesus’ baptism sends
water trickling down into the river.

Sunlit torrents pour down from upriver
their roaring origin, in stillness ends,
as a voice proclaims, My Son the life-giver.

The veil rips open, a golden sliver
illuminates – with bright yellow beam-ends–
water trickling down into the river.

Is it the cold Jordan makes me shiver
or do I feel a something that transcends
as a voice proclaims, My Son the life-giver?

I stand and watch from the bank downriver
this man who will make fishermen his friends.
Water trickling down into the river
as a voice proclaims, My Son the life-giver.

We flew over a highlands silver lake,
Dancing moonlight caressed its dark waters;
It mirrored visions I'll never forsake.

The Milky Way waltzed above you, awake,
Planets laughed at us; they knew our chances.
We flew over a highlands silver lake.

I followed the brightest star—your namesake.
Phantoms of my friends swam in the deep glass;
It mirrored visions I'll never forsake.

Self-preserving, I escaped like a snake,
Slithering past a wildfire, free at last:
We flew over a highlands silver lake.

Once I thought you were nothing but a rake,
Then you bewitched me with tales of heroes;
It mirrored visions I'll never forsake.

In the dead of night, we are an earthquake—
Am I mad or brave for coming with you?
We flew over a highlands silver lake,
It mirrored visions I'll never forsake.

Imprisoned clouds, waiting to fly,
Held back by a willowed, sandy bank:
The river, green and clear as an eye.
Its silent depths enticed us to pry.
Into the liquid dungeon we slank,
Imprisoned clouds, waiting to fly.

There we discovered we could scry,
And so greedily we drank
The river, green and clear as an eye.

Our brains ceased to electrify,
Souls fusing with those dank
Imprisoned clouds, waiting to fly.

Now bloated, white, we putrefy,
For we could not outflank
The river, green and clear as an eye.

Deliverer of fate we can’t defy,
But for our new life we thank
Imprisoned clouds, waiting to fly:
The river, green and clear as an eye.

Pride designed a precious bower
Granting each discarded scrap
The illusion of creative power

Whatever’s found he will devour
And shape to his mind’s map
Pride designed a precious bower

Now his lover he will shower
With refuse in a shiny wrap:
The illusion of creative power

Is she wooed by his false flower?
Will glamour be her trap?
Pride designed a precious bower

Or will her feelings remain dour?
Knowing he can only tap
The illusion of creative power

Leaving him to hunt and scour
The world for his stopgap
Pride designed a precious bower
The illusion of creative power

Pour me another, to recess we go,
Tender the whiskey or beer in my hand
Feelingless furlough with barleycorn glow

Hazard as high as acuity low
Don’t tell my mother, she won’t understand
Pour me another, to recess we go

Scars are enshrouded, contusions don’t show
Hidden the lesions, pretend to be grand
Feelingless furlough with barleycorn glow

Call the Mourne Mountains, and rosin the bow
Rattle the bog and the black velvet band,
Pour me another, to recess we go

Don’t tell my mother, she won’t want to know
Sentiment-soaked more than she could withstand
Pour me another, to recess we go,
Feelingless furlough with barleycorn glow

Trump wants to serve all folk, not just felons,
***-offenders, serial liars,
and duped jailed rioters, the oil barons,

The gun-advocates, scammers, those who con
like big sick pharma, and favour byers,
Trump wants to serve all folk, not just fellons.

And those who wish public schools, the DOJ gone,
and the rich demanding to be richer,
and duped, jailed, rioters, the oil barons,

Not just big businesses filling prisons  
gifts from " jail-the-homeless-scotus-lifers"
Trump wants to serve all folk, not just felons,

And not just those who'd see the weak trodden on
not just faux religious bible pounders,
and duped jailed rioters, the oil barons,

Not just the beasts who'd keep down the women
Or apologists for killer dictators,
Trump wants to serve all folk not just felons
And duped jailed rioters, the oil barons...

What are you folks to him, you maga crowd,
you duped rioters, you duped stymied gop,
just a meal ticket, for crying out loud,

You, the soldier ants, right, right, beetle-browed
you desperate sad and blank-minded lot,
what are you folks to him, you maga crowd?

You, the grifted he leeched on, you, right cowed,
as long as you pay he cares not one jot,
just a meal ticket for crying out loud,

But sometimes Freudian truths ring out loud
"This Disgusting Sham Politician!! " what?
what, are you folks to him, you maga crowd,

Do you remember the deaths this thing allowed
" Stand back and stand by " at his riot,
what are you folks to him you maga crowd,

This creature will leech till you're in your shroud
Then finally over your grave will squat,
What are you folks to him, you maga crowd,
Just a meal ticket, for crying out loud.