Donald Trump's contumely:
Will it rocket him to the presidency?
I asked that same question very
To a friend of mine just recently
And he said that time will tell only;
In response, I muttered to  myself, "Time slips away,
But Donald Trump's contumely is here to stay."

With that sage wisdom, I closed the book on that subject,
And asked the question: Will Hillary Clinton's server foot-fault her
presidential aspirations to the pile reject?
                 -alternative ending-
With that sage wisdom, on that subject I closed the book
And spent the rest of the afternoon thumbing through an old magazine LOOK.

A crocodile
From 'long the river Nile
Went thru a turnstile
In a New York City subway station,
But after some heavy contemplation,
He turned round,
Headed uptown,
And stopped in at Cairo Joe's Music Sound.

I was walking thro the park one day,
When I came across a closet on my way.
I opened the door and saw an abyss,
And the sound that I heard was like a hiss.
My curiosity urged me onward,
So reluctantly I sheepishly went forward.
It was so dark I almost started to cry,
But bravely I continued, tho I don't know why.
Eventually, I came upon a little man
Who wore a green cap and carried a cane.
He asked me to where I was going;
I told him no place special, just following
My instincts.  He told me to beware
Of strange animals, and witches, who spare
No one whom they meet.  I thanked him for
His advice, and continued furthering more,
Till I came upon a stream
That resembled a dream,
And tarried there to get refreshed.
My body rested, my face splashed, my thirst quenched,
I betook myself to resume my journey
On the unknown path before me.
As it was still quite exceptionally dark,
I started wishing I was back at the park,
When suddenly an elevator appeared.
I looked it over carefully, and then steered
Myself inside; whereupon, I saw, to my dismay,
A control board, with arrows pointing every which way.
I pushed the one that upwards showed,
And immediately, Easter lilies down thro the ceiling flowed.
I stood in awe as the car filled with flowers;
Tho it was only a few minutes, it seemed like hours.
Finally, the rain of those soft white horns ceased,
And the door opened, and I was released
From my flowery captivity.  I unhesitatingly exited,
And found myself back at the park which earlier I had visited.
I turned 'round, but there was nothing there to remind me
Of where I'd been; so, I put those occurrences behind me,
And I began anew my stroll thro the park,
Which was ornamented muchly by fallen, wind-blown bark.

"Why am I always hurryin'?" asked the beetle
To the little ant.  "Because," said the ant, "you're always doin' things illegal."
"Nay!" cried the beetle in self-defense,
"I am a victim of circumstance!"
"Likely story," retorted the ant.  "But it's true!"
Complained the beetle, "Just ask the morning dew; she'll tell you."

So the little ant sought out the morning dew,
And asked her if what the beetle had said was true.
The morning dew wiped the drops from her eyes,
And answered, "If that's what the beetle said, I'm not one to criticize."
The ant shrugged his shoulders upon hearing the morning dew's words,
And muttered to himself, as he walked away, that she and the beetle
were for the birds.

Ingeniously and earnestly he worked thru the night
      To get it right;
Feverishly and painstakingly he sought the light,
      And used his might
To make it perfect and spotless, immaculate and true
      To all of you; ---
And here you see the product of his hands and sweat-filled toil:
      A most royal
Engine of ingenuity, cleverness, and craft
      To ever waft
Thru the masses of humankind, and lay the foundation
      Of creation
Creative for hundreds of generations to come,
      And benefit from.