On the first day of maliciousness my true love gave to me
Nuclear waste in the Pacific Sea

On the second day of maliciousness my true love gave to me
Two ballistic missiles and nuclear waste in the Pacific Sea

On the third day of maliciousness my true love gave to me
Three million toddlers' deaths, two ballistic missiles and nuclear waste in the Pacific Sea

On the fourth day of maliciousness my true love gave to me
Four massive oil leaks, three million toddlers' deaths, two ballistic missiles and nuclear waste in the Pacific Sea

On the fifth day of maliciousness my true love gave to me
Five pandemic viruses, four massive oil leaks, three million toddlers' deaths, two ballistic missiles and nuclear waste in the Pacific Sea

On the sixth day of maliciousness my true love gave to me
Six countries' electronic waste, five pandemic viruses, four massive oil leaks, three million toddlers' deaths, two ballistic missiles and nuclear waste in the Pacific Sea

On the seventh day of maliciousness my true love gave to me
Seven world-powers downplaying, six countries' electronic waste, five pandemic viruses, four massive oil leaks, three million toddlers' deaths, two ballistic missiles and nuclear waste in the Pacific Sea

On the eighth day of maliciousness my true love gave to me
Eight pointless wars, seven world-powers downplaying, six countries' electronic waste, five pandemic viruses, four massive oil leaks, three million toddlers' deaths, two ballistic missiles and nuclear waste in the Pacific Sea

On the ninth day of maliciousness my true love gave to me
Nine last elephants Asian, eight pointless wars, seven world-powers downplaying, six countries' electronic waste, five pandemic viruses, four massive oil leaks, three million toddlers' deaths, two ballistic missiles and nuclear waste in the Pacific Sea

On the tenth day of maliciousness my true love gave to me
Ten million famishing, nine last elephants Asian, eight pointless wars, seven world-powers downplaying, six countries' electronic waste, five pandemic viruses, four massive oil leaks, three million toddlers' deaths, two ballistic missiles and nuclear waste in the Pacific Sea

On the eleventh day of maliciousness my true love gave to me
Eleven million hectares deforesting, ten million famishing, nine last elephants Asian, eight pointless wars, seven world-powers downplaying, six countries' electronic waste, five pandemic viruses, four massive oil leaks, three million toddlers' deaths, two ballistic missiles and nuclear waste in the Pacific Sea

On the twelfth day of maliciousness my true love gave to me
Twelve million tonnes plastic waste, eleven million hectares deforesting, ten million famishing, nine last elephants Asian, eight pointless wars, seven world-powers downplaying, six countries' electronic waste, five pandemic viruses, four massive oil leaks, three million toddlers' deaths, two ballistic missiles and nuclear waste in the Pacific Sea

Fragmented dreams and bleak realities
are all that is left of me
downplaying the past
while running from beyond
the abyss of my demise grows with passing time
Winding down and building up
the excitement of my downfall erupts
spewing all over
my soul does explode
all I ever wanted was to write a story that had never been told
My pain disrupts what I once called happiness
how could I ever become this undone
without a purpose
without a plan
my future fades
as the lights dim and my body takes a bow
I would like to thank you all
for the wondrous joy
the laughter and the beauty that was in store
never could I have imagined
that life was this sweet
maybe next time the bitterness will take a retreat

The king of cover-up is at it again,
Downplaying financial ties
And close connections with other countries,
Especially when questions arise.

First it was with Putin and Russia.
How much collusion remains to be seen.
Conspiracy in election meddling?
Whitewashing is now routine.

And then there was the hush-money
To cover-up some hanky-panky.
Dissimulation's easy when
You've got money in the banky.

It looks as though you must deny
And try to hide actions you rue,
But calling your fling "horse face," is that
A gentlemanly thing to do?

Now the cover-up deals with the Saudis--
With the crown prince and the Saudi king.
Denial…admittance…rogue players…
It has such a familiar ring.

After bragging over and over
About the millions of dollars he's made
From wealthy Saudis, his words are now
Exploding like a hand grenade.

When the leader has conflicts of interest,
Critics, pundits, and others who know
Where his interests really lie,
Shrug and say, "We told you so!"

He says he has a "natural instinct
For science." Isn't THAT a joke!
I wish his "natural instinct" was for
Telling the truth whenever he spoke.

-by Bob B (10-18-18)

Evelyn wore a porcelain mask with a perpetual, pretty, painted smile until one day the cover-up cracked. She didn’t realize how badly she wanted to cry, and the tears just wouldn’t stop.  After the deluge came to an end, she got on her cell phone and gave Cody a call. She was at home, lying on her bed, staring up at the ceiling with thoughts of Cody, galore. So why not call him? She had been good about not giving into her urge of making contact. She needed to hold off and reassess all her thoughts and desires--not to appear impulsive or desperate. Her mother told her she was too young to worry about serious commitments, but by twenty-one her mother was already married. Evelyn was almost twenty-two.  

“Things haven’t been the same since we were together”, she admitted to Cody, two years her senior. The moment of silence seemed like a lot longer.

Cody was also in his room, strumming on his guitar when she called. He responded, “Yeah, well…I don’t get it. It was you that left me, not the other way around”.

That was typical Cody, she had thought. “It feels like you left much earlier than that—you and your walls that shut me out”.

They were friends since high school. They seemed to be really good at being friends, but really bad at a relationship. They could goof around and have fun, go to concerts and sporting events, hang out with other friends or try new restaurant as they were both foodies. Or they’d catch all the action movies, and Cody would tolerate the chick flicks for her sake—once in a while. But as lovers, he was not what she wanted him to be, he being distant. She was often pushing him away by trying to change him into what she wanted or needed.

“I still love you”, Cody admitted. “That never stopped”.

Evelyn dropped the phone in a funny, sarcastic way, and then she picked it up, again. “Holy cow! Who the hell is this guy, and what happened to my good guy BFF, Cody! Tell me, what did you do to him?” she shouted out playfully. “Really! I almost never heard you say that! And certainly not unless I said it first!”

“Yeah, yeah”, he replied, downplaying things. “Now don’t make me into some **** who has no feelings or doesn’t know how to act. Maybe I wasn’t always the with-it guy, but I tried. I really did try to…”.

Evelyn smiled softly, a genuine smile, and quickly interjected. “I wish I could be there to give you a real one, but I’ll just blow you a kiss over the phone”. She made a kissing sound, touched her lips with her finger, and blew out of her mouth as to send him a kiss”.

Cody smacked his cheek, slightly, and joked, “Got it! Did you hear that? It landed right smack on me!”

They laughed and talked awhile. They just had to be friends, again. Nothing should stand in their way, for there was too much enjoyment of each other’s company, and if that meant the boyfriend/girlfriend thing was off the table, so be it. Maybe it could work, again. It might be worth a try, in time, but the platonic was doable. They just knew they wanted each other back, to be in each other’s life once more.  

.

what i say

i mean with the kindest of hearts

my love

is often mistaken for hate

because sometimes my visions spill out of my mouth when i see the life you’re trying to create

just take 

a look

but don’t look with your eyes

your eyes can’t see when your mind starts to fly

what i say

i say with an authority i shouldn’t have 

inhibition delivering me to my very well deserved state

teenage dream

but the dreams i have are controlled chaos 

nightmares that twist my rib cage towards the so desired truth

what i say

is the result of you trying to bleach me

teach me the truth that was passed down to greet me

wash me of my secret maturity

because its rude to stand up for what i believe in 
if what i believe in

is on the opposite end of a person over five years older than me

what i say 

is more than an everyday opinion 

i have washed that word from my vocabulary 

and protested it to no end
what i say

is not the result of the lack of thinking

it’s the result of admitting that the lack of thinking created this mess that we call

freedom of speech

and i know a little more of what it’s like

to become an object of a proven point

when your point has been proven by others

and you have to sharpen the edges for it to be seen as the same words

and i don’t know every scripture 
but i know that God is love

so why are those three words seen differently on Sunday morning out of a preachers mouth?

and i’m no republican (sorry daddy) but i know my God given rights
my country given rights
and my self given rights

but i no longer see that integrity in the cops we throw outside

and i dare say 
i am afraid of the american flag

because the fabric is being held against our mouths 
silencing us by giving us freedom

but if i brought these things up to you 

you wouldn’t understand

because you take part in the war

and don’t feel the land and it’s plans

70% of the people i know could tell me i’m wise

but when the time comes to talk i gotta sit on the sidelines
and watch people potentially ruin their lives 

because i’m 13

all i have to worry about are friendships 

and lies

and homework 

and guys

and i’m not downplaying these things

i’m just saying

a lot of adults have signed me up for wars

and told me i’m not ready for the training

but hey

what do i know

i’m only 13

but just because a cut is small

doesn’t mean it won’t bleed

and experience means nothing without integrity 

which is better than anything you could ever teach

so when i speak

someone is bound to listen to me

and to that one random person 

who i’ll probably never meet

thank you
for being a part of the solution

despite the fact 
that we’re only 13

and in case you were wondering about the other 30

in the percentage above
**
it’s my family

What if I'm right..
and the  strange things  I do
(that seem so "cruel" to you)
are the only way that you can finally
become  able  to  truly see?  
What if what you once felt  to be cruel
entended up being the most  loving
thing you've ever experienced?  
I'm not downplaying what I've done
  or trying to minimize it
or justify my actions in any way at all..
I am just trying to tell you that the
original damage went into you with
severity and it's own form of selfish
violence.  

Breaking that severity can never be a very pretty thing.

What if my love for you,  and the
strange way that I do it
is the only thing that would have
  ever worked

to help you to finally have a chance?



I am broken too.. and  the only way I
can truly enter into your brokenness

     is when your  brokenness


b re a k s



              against mine.

And my problem is that i don't know
where to start or how to end.
I live in ellipses,
commas, and dramatic pauses
and I pretend that I'm doing it on purpose.
When you saw through the blur in my head,
you told me all about my heart and
how out of sync it was with my mind.
And I was sitting right next to you when
I hid a letter in a box,
tucked it right between your running shoes,
but it's December,
and you don't run when there's snow on the ground.

I told you I was a baseball field,
empty at two in the morning,
dust settling, but I don't think you
knew what I meant.
So I told you that my bathroom sink
has swallowed more demons than gallons,
and that I lay on my kitchen floor
more often than I sit on my couch,
and that I am hemorrhaging indigo
and dry-heaving maroon late at night
when you are asleep,
and maybe you only pretended
to understand what I was talking about.

They're all sick of me
ending statements with "never mind,"
downplaying my madness to keep them calm.
I told my dad I loved him for the first time
in two years, and followed up by
stealing my grandfather's anxiety medication
to sedate the butterflies in my stomach.
I like to think I know what it feels like to be dead.
Like sleep, only colder. Darker.
Less and less until I only exist as
stains on people's brains.
I always liked the number zero.

I am the journal I threw out two nights ago
without checking the pages for things to keep.
I am three days awake, bloodshot eyes,
six cups of black coffee first thing in the morning,
and black-out curtains at three in the afternoon.
I am a suicide car and a pedestrian who never looks both ways.
I'm my own worst enemy.
Someday, I'll light a few candles to set the mood and
take a bath with my toaster.
I am an appendix; nobody needs me.
I'm full of **** and I need removing.

And I guess you should know that I am not sorry.
You're going to find that letter tucked between your shoes
come spring, written by someone who isn't red stains
on bathroom linolium. She was
rainbow streaks that the sun plastered to your livingroom walls
at eight in the morning.
At least, that's what you told me.
I don't think I knew what you meant.

I’d like to make a wish.
Do I get a wish or is
Society taking a pish?
I wish some people used mouthwash
By the gallon every week
Because they reek.
And, I am not talking bad
No, I am sad to say
They take my breath away
And make me **** in
Like I am hitting good ****.

They really need to brush
Then floss, then swoosh.
Or, I could kick them in the toosh
And scream in their face
“You’re a disgrace!
Surely you don’t kiss your mother
With that breath that could smother
And render her gasping
Grasping for one more breath
Before her death from asphyxiation.
So, for the betterment of the nation,
Your state, county, city and block
I give your forehead a knock
Saying ‘Hello! Something died in there!”

So, when you go in there, to the john
Don’t make yourself gone
Until you have poured something in
That fetid **** above your chin;
Something that will **** the bugs
You got from too many drugs,
Too much crap and too little good.
I’m sure if you tried, you could
Free us from this stench.
Take the mouthwash off the bench
And put it into play
For the sake of the team.

No, this isn’t a dream.
I’m really saying it.
No sense downplaying it.
It’s not outrageous at all.
It’s a wake-up call.

I live in the absence of presence
proximity filled by emptiness
I look for a god in the machine
but the schematics are held by noncompliant fingers
tightly clutching my rightful deeds
and pointing in the opposite direction.

I’m alive so I feel compelled to live but don’t know how
so when I want to have a night I’ll never forget
I get ****** up
and when I have a night I never want to remember
I get even more ****** up
I think I’m having a good time
but my memory is pretty ****** up.

But something shines through my ****** up memories
a vision of when we first met
you asked me, “What are you up to?”
I misheard you and responded, “Yeah, I’m ****** up too.”
then we talked about this ****** up zoo
and how we could help each other through.

The connection we develop engenders nightmares
I have two kinds of ****** dreams
the ones where I have *** with people I don’t want
bizarre **** like relatives and ghosts
even ghost relatives—and relative ghosts
those dreams can get pretty ****** up
but the dreams where I’m with the people I want
are factored by the power of two
and are exponentially more ****** up.

The dreams become fantasies I can’t reconcile with reality
burying me in insecurity
thinking what keeps me alive is impossible to hold onto like air
I keep wildly grasping in desperate futility
suffocating in deprivation
until eventually I can’t feel anything anymore.

You notice my weakness and attack
you’re a vampire bat
echolocating past relationships you enjoyed more
I tell you you ****** up
and now must slum with a *** instead of number one.

I keep eating up your batshit insanity
contracting your coronavirus
I just want to sleep
I feel like I’m going to die
your fever dreams are sweat submerged stress nightmares
once I start drowning I try to scream
but all that escapes me are the bubbles I live in
they float on the surface, eventually popping.

You keep calling me a clown
so I joke you can juggle my *****
with dismissive sarcasm you respond I should try stand-up
but that’s already what I’m doing
you tell me to jump off a cliff
but I already have
exasperated, you scream I should literally **** myself
but I already write of my own death every night.

You separate from me like a head from a neck
after the noose that tied us together severed our connection
I fell to the ground and realized I was still alive
and started downplaying the bounty on my head
which seems much larger when one sees it on a wanted poster.

I’m not looking for a person
I’m searching for a feeling people are capable of delivering
I don’t care where I find it as long as I do
people often ask me if I’m more attracted to men or women
I find the question somewhat annoying and I’d rather not answer
but if you forced me to choose by putting a gun to my head
that might turn me on even more.

Haunted by rejection
Caged by your selfishness
Your forceful restraint of love
Knocking the air from my lungs
Without having to throw a single punch

Surrounded by star-kissed love
Reminding me of that which you refuse
That which I have refused myself
Why did I settle for this emptiness?

My heartbeat for you lessened
Each unanswered text, every forgotten call
No time made up for those tears
The loneliness that came, nothingness

Your crass words
Lightning to my gut
Crevasse-like holes you created in me
Never quite filled by drunken nights

Those words, assuming and pompous
As if you knew my heartache
Arrogant and pretentious
Downplaying the sound of my heart
Pretending you know me
Like you ever tried to know me

I was daring, courageous
Not circumventing vulnerability
Unrelentingly, unashamedly
Convinced
How worth it we are
How worth it I am

How dare you say
"Make love to me"
As if I haven't been trying this whole time
Every second I was with you
Yearning for that love in return

Your quiet rejection inflamed my heart
Creating in me a fire
Anger masked as butterflies
I thought "if only"
If only I try harder
Then
Then you will see
How beautiful it could be

Could have been

Courtesy food pantries
Saint Eleanor's Saint Mary's,
Our Daily Bread,
the missus and yours truly (her spouse)
well stocked with good n plenti of
soap, shampoo and detergent.

Spongebob squarepants
would be in seventh heaven,
where sudsy clouds (resembling
Mister Krabs, Plankton,
Sandy Cheeks, Squidward, et cetera),
would drift across celestial vault.

Gratitude bequeathed to prophets of virtue
benevolent good samaritans
who trend righteous true
to the calling of helping hands who renew
faith (mine) in goodness of humanity
assisting not only yours truly
and the missus, but people
from South American country named Peru
or even indigenous tribes
accorded recognition comprising
population of inhabitants occupying New
Zealand, offered reparations

under the Treaty of Waitangi,
a process of reparation allowed
Maori to be fully recognized
at political level in lieu
of unfair practices inflicted upon
original occupant loosely similar
to descendents of long lost tribes of Israel,
endowed with (pure tin) pride
wishing I too could call myself proud Jew,
nevertheless attraction manifests destiny
(mine) someday to learn Hebrew.

Courtesy atheism more so Unitarianism,
I need not adopt
an explicit dogmatic, fanatic, humanistic...,
lunatic, narcissistic, puritanic... paradigm,
but only tout poetic justice (mine)
to recognize laudable traits
linkedin to orthodox faiths,
albeit rationalistic rubric
that caters to selflessness

for no other reason
than allowing, enabling, and promoting
random acts of kindness
without any forthcoming great expectation
downplaying remuneration,
no matter destitution begot mein kampf
hard times living within bleak house
slight hyperbolic exaggeration
poor as a cheesy church mouse poet.

Lemme coast to a fitting conclusion
bringing reasonable rhyming blather
originating courtesy me noggin,
within which wool doth gather
thus I a halt and
dial down philosophical lather,
cuz most likely
ye dear reader would rather
experience palmolive oil slather
preparatory to full body massage.

Earthdate/starttime: 11/04/19 01:10:26 AM
Earthdate/endtime: 11/04/19 02:55:46 AM

Poetic snapshot regarding immediate
actual, physical, spatial... environment
pertinent, relevant, salient... yours truly
commenced within fleeting electronic

date/time stamp indicated above bereft
attempts to describe character sketch,
whereat I sit within Apartment B44:
taking immediate lock, stock & barrel

ordinary repeated situation witnessing
garden variety **** sapien imbibing
familiar scenario, while spouse sleeps
near proximity, CPAP machine regulates

continuous positive airway pressure
offsetting sleep apnea breathe more so
she can breathe free and clear preventing
airway from collapsing when she inhales.

Nothing particularly spectacular wee hour
this ordinary moment beckoned, challenged
decided... attempt to focus (laser like) sense
and sensibility without pride, nor prejudice
essentially simply worded still life repeated
predictably, & regularity glossed over other
instances finding impetus preying upon pro-

fun ditties, and expansive vocabulary unsure
communicated printed idea understandable
aware some readers disinclined wading thru
thicket (quagmire) of verbiage, hence eureka
experience to corral immediate circumstance
(think Will Rogers' 140th birthday his home
spun extemporaneous anecdotal nuggets.)

Many occasions embarking upon complexity
aspire to elaborate intricate worded webbed
(wide aye bother) complex edifice ambitious
invariably confounding unsuspecting readers
suddenly sinking within quicksand helpless

against salvation, hence painstaking effort
to asseverate downplaying sesquipedalian
rather toning down syllabification sharing
trumpeting, undulating humdrum existence
verily reporting sleeping on floor - courtesy
restless leg syndrome, which affects the mrs.

Marriage basically no match heavenly made,
nonetheless dynamic linkedin travails values
wifely attentiveness to prepare unrecognized
frying object (best described as pop slop), +

she tends other domestic chore, viz washing
soiled clothes nsync of kitchen, whiling away
(think dervish) stoking chaos within invisible
re: nearly infinitesimal speck within Milkyway.

MIRAGE

In the distance of
images blurred-hard to tell, coming into focus
a  full view
there it is, then not

glistening pools of
coolness, with sand and palms, pleasures overflow
to slaking ones thirst, or rest ones head
there it is, then not

to live in the dream of trying to forget
belief suspension, made so real, ready
to touch, to see, clear as day
there it is, then not

as the mind plays tricks, downplaying, it's own reality check

By Michael Perry

i know that when you eat 13 more pills than your body is used to, it will freak out and land up in the ICU where you will fight against yourself to stay alive. and that's no easy ****, i also know that when you did this the first time you were a lot healthier than you are now.

i know that last night i came to the most tragic epiphany ever. when i was a kid, i watched my mom turn herself into a puppet as a hand went across her face, fast, and i would turn my brain off into a different world. and then it became toxic. i began imagining the pretty little 80lb girl slicing her pinkie-wrapped-wide wrist in order to look pretty. and by 5th grade, i developed an eating disorder.

i know that if i wasn't abused, i may have actually stood a chance to make something of myself.

i know that i have an issue with denial around my anxiety and the crippling level of it. i know i'm downplaying. i know i hurt. i know.

i know that if i hadn't fallen in love with trauma and ******-up **** to make me aesthetic and pretty, we'd be in a different place.

Surrounded by so many.
They go everywhere but here.
Floating, falling, flying, crawling.
You see them all around
When you block out the sound
And either rise or fall
Til your feet can feel the ground.
Those that soar have no desire for reflection.
Deny their flaws, will they find perfection?
When do they search within,
If they measure another man’s sin?
Does happiness comes from harm or control?
I wish it could speak,
Illuminating the misconception and wrong.
If a man can’t stand on his own is he weak?
What is faith when foundations aren’t strong?
What should I perceive?
How strong is their faith
If they rage when I don’t believe?
Their actions don’t serve a God in control.
If so they’d find comfort and know.
So little time for worship when they patrol.
Do they rank sin?
Where do they start?
His first law is there is no God but Him.
For a planet worshipping men,
Where should the ranking begin?
Would anyone harm a child
If they believed in a God that could see?
Perhaps they wouldn’t be doing it
If they’d accept what they’re supposed to be.
Why should I let men that deny what they are
Tell me what I should see.
Unable to reflect, accept the human in them
Disrespect what’s human in me.
Expectation on where they might go
But will they go if they won’t grow?

Words that seem the same,
Sharing origins only.
Civilization not civilized
Alone not lonely
Alive not living.
They live to represent something in heaven.
Something they weren’t created to achieve.
To discover, false expectations uncovered.
Pointless to understand or know them.
Freedom in accepting who I should be.
Should men that can’t control themselves
Control me?
If only common sense could speak.
Opposed to what’s human, they’ve cursed.
All while in the shadows creating, downplaying
The crime, if measured, that’s worst.
I hear them speak and I just walk away.
For when I must be judged at least I may say
In no way did I try to relate.
I find comfort alone and accept my fate,
All while keeping my faith,
Knowing that on my own,
Finding my own way,
If I have nothing else
At least I can honestly say,
I didn’t associate with child molestors.

I hear your voice from far away.
I was still searching you in jungle of pain.
The legend crumbles downplaying.

My poems ask, what were
you up to digging the ruins of love.
Who admires past to know the truth?

In my saga the end never comes.
Death comes free. I remained a fakir. At the
tangent of suffering someone cries.

where Lassie free to run across petco junction

All across the webbed
wide esse Scott's wold
emerald green Trifolium
carpets harbor untold
burrows of tiny Leprechauns clover
(leaf) ways grant trifold
wishes if captured might
divulge *** of gold
at rainbow's end, and e'en mend
yar shoes, whence re: souled,
thence tread softly beneath subthreshold

of audibility, cuz unseen universe
hapts tubby microscopically rolled
with subterranean inhabited by Lilliputian
mischievous beings (about bajillion holed
up could fill the Taj Mahal) even donned with

heavy coat protecting them
(usually men) against cold
yet frolic with reel delight jiggling
with inborn instinct exhibit twofold
talent to dance with modesty

downplaying (while fiddling)
analogous to some roof fiend
averse tubby extolled,
nonetheless, their popular
doth soar, and grievously scold
persistent myth anchored with toehold,

and thus do not indulge
pruriently with pixies considerably dulled,
since libido practically nonexistent told
me (under oath of
confidentiality), one Grunwald
trusted yours truly, the secrete
will not leak out,
nor spread like slime mold,
this descendant of Lemuel Gulliver.

Yours truly (an average
height and weight size ways)
nondescript grown
male munching kin
stands a little less than threefold
larger than full grown homunculi.

Rumor monger kickstarter
Matthew Scott Harris
posits nontrue tidbit
regarding rock 'n' roll star
who (name unmentioned)
became the most influential
musicians across the universe,
with estimated record sales
of around 600 million
as of two thousand seventeen.

Imp possible mission
to see non elfish (pressed) lee
160 years after his Irish ancestor
crossed the Atlantic.
curling his left lip
whereby convalescing, peep ping auld
timers cavorting wax nostalgic with
itty bitty whippersnappers,

averse to any outliers, whether hirsute or bald
an honest to goodness painstaking effort
initially stymied friendship proffered, a cold
reception eventually (while sharing diet of worms)
deep under verdantly
festooned knolls of Eire land.

Tell me: where's a leader when you need one--
When we have a crisis in full swing?
What we have is hardly what we need now:
Instead, we have a man who would be king.

We know the president's administration
Attended crisis briefings; it was warned.
And yet when people point out some of its failures,
They in turn are pilloried and scorned.

A national emergency requires
That we have all the proper tools at hand.
It requires a coordinated effort
And someone with some know-how in command.

What does Trump do? He puts Kushner in charge;
He wants his son-in-law to run the show,
As if he's an expert on pandemics.
Tell me: what the hell does Jared know?

The willful ignorance of those in charge
Of fighting a deadly virus that knows no borders
Has led to chaos. And sadly some who have spoken
The truth have been given their marching orders.

The states shouldn't have to compete for supplies.
And no one out there should be making a killing
On badly needed medical equipment.
What we see occurring is truly chilling.

By downplaying the crisis at the start,
The president put many lives in danger.
The fact that some have praised his slow response
In fighting COVID-19 is even stranger.

Also, playing favorites isn't right
When doling out necessary supplies.
Patchwork policies aren't going to help.
And most of us are tired of all the lies.

It's hard when the leadership is feckless--
And when there's moral bankruptcy at the top--
For any country to deal with major crises.
When is the nonsense going to stop?

So tell me: where's a leader when we need one?
The one we have leaves much to be desired.
If only this November we will hear
The lovely words, "Mr. Trump, you're fired!"

-by Bob B (4-5-20)

While on the topic
of blood kith and kin,
I relate another
fabricated poem about
blimey bloke of a fisherman.

Courtesy webbed whirled wide net wit
cursing thwarted life,
liberty and pursuit of happiness
if eavesdropper, you would discern
nasality – cause uvula split
holed within mancave unit b44,
a regular run of the mill hermit.

Any resemblance between
said character and living persons
purely (off fish shilly) coincidental
material scoured from dregs
of me muss held head.

I shore up a vignette to free
my ("FAKE") grandfather Hymie,
whose scrunched countenanced
evinced beetle that of browed monkey
he spent his entire life at sea
his thick calloused hands
and ruddy complexion
reinforced non verbal body language
voluminous tomes smoothed
nick holed money

to countless years
(spilling into decades)
exposed to salty spittle nee
where watery terrain spewed
raw elements piscine
art finest artisanal blended, crafted, nein
mean feet resources dredged reluctantly
relinquished by mother nature mean
craftily pared within
each trough and crest

found thee old man
with privateer mean
mien whose skin fiercely weatherbeaten
leathery and lean,
epidermis tanned tough
as rawhide, reptilian, prithee
chafed skin to me
not surprising, since
this mariner born,
bred and near lee

schooled within briny
deep ever since knee
high (or so he claimed truth
to swirling rumor), jovially
pleased that his purportedly
learnin' myth writ tik ne'r included
NEVER settn' foot in formal classroom,
his knowledge icy
anecdotes aced, surpassed,
and trounced that of what he

referred to as grenadier landlubbers
green behind the ears – glee
fully jabbing with his
unsheathed scabbard play flea
actually downplaying any exploits,
that didst educate him, 'ee
got taut learn'n survival skills asper
pre ponder hunt via
eddy fied tests frequently dee
siding a life or death outcome,

yet our Dickensian
mutually bonding friendship
via shared exploits while
he dressed not in tatters,
but self made clothes from cree
chores comfortable furs, and though
a striking appearance cut, ne'r
did this ole codger (fit as a fiddle
with tall slender build),
said middle aged man
appeared quite becoming.

An aura, charisma, dogma
amazingly graced stalwart, gestalt,
deportment aie
found added an air
of charming debonair,
esteeming flair, genteel heir
which tasked guessing years old,
aye presumed him
to exit the uterine lair

at least a few score
tours round oblate sphere
as aspect of youthfulness
played across his eyes
one colored green
like a spring day in the country,
the other jetblue sans burnin'
man four score and seven
pearl jam oyster cult year.

When dealing with a serious crisis,
We need a leader whose words inspire us,
Not one who tries to cover up facts
In dealing with the spread of a virus.

Coronavirus (COVID 19)
Around the globe is quickly spreading.
If we--the public--remain uninformed,
Into what dark abyss are we heading?

At first the president seemed less concerned
About our welfare--our protection--
And more concerned about how the matter
Affects his chances of reelection.

Downplaying the words of the experts,
He doesn't want the markets to panic.
If we aren't told the truth, however,
The consequences could be titanic.

Censoring the information
From health officials isn't wise.
We will be subjected to more
Of the Trump administration's lies.

For Mike Pence to lead the response
Doesn't make any sense at all.
When dealing with a health crisis
In Indiana, he dropped the ball.

Governmental agencies
Created to deal with crises as such,
Have been hollowed out by Trump,
Who has the reverse Midas touch.

The head of the HHS:° guess who.
A former lobbyist! Oh, yes.
And for big pharma. Watch him make
The crisis into a bigger mess.

Trump must be the protagonist
In every drama, someone has said.
While he blathers, how many people
Will die from having been misled?

A leader needs certain qualities
To fight all kinds of vicious attacks:
Honesty and competence--
Two important things ours lacks.

-by Bob B (2-28-20)

°Health and Human Services

There have been so many deaths that have taken
place across the nation, so many innocent black lives
taken from this world by corrupt police officers,
utter hatred against our black race, downplaying
our creativity and intelligence, silencing our voices
before we can even speak.  What did we ever do
to you for you to destroy our ancestry and dreams?
What is it about the color of our skin that makes us
a target in your eyes?  Why must you continue
kneeling your legs on our backs?  It’s a solid fact
that you want to see us crack wide open like
a broken bridge, drowning in our own misery
as you incessantly laugh at us.  We don’t
understand the meaning of your cruel language,
your immense diction of darkened depths.
We can see that you have your hands tight
around our throat, applying heavy pressure,
our breaths lessening, attempting to speak,
“We can’t breathe.”  But you aren’t listening to us.
The only sound that you can hear is your own voice
yelling, “Shut up. Stop resisting arrest. Stay down.
lay your filthy head on the ground.”  Can’t you see
that we are already lying down?  Why must you try
to constantly provoke us so that you can only ******
us in the end?  And everything falls back on us for
resisting arrest.

where Lassie free to run across petco junction

All across the webbed
wide esse Scott's landed wold
emerald green Trifolium
carpets harbor untold
burrows of tiny Leprechauns clover
(leaf) ways grant trifold
wishes if captured might
divulge *** of gold
at rainbow's end, and e'en mend
yar shoes, whence re: souled,

thence tread softly beneath subthreshold
of audibility, cuz unseen universe
hapts tubby microscopically rolled
with subterranean inhabited by Lilliputian
mischievous impish beings
(about bajillion holed
up could fill the Taj Mahal) even donned with
heavy coat protecting them
(usually men) against cold
yet frolic with reel delight jiggling

with inborn instinct exhibit twofold
talent to dance with modesty
downplaying (while fiddling)
analogous to some roof fiend
averse tubby extolled,
nonetheless, their popular
doth soar, and grievously scold
persistent myth anchored with toehold,
and thus do not indulge
pruriently with pixies considerably dulled,

since libido practically nonexistent told
me (under oath of
confidentiality), one Grunwald
trusted yours truly, the secrete
will not leak out,
nor spread like slime mold,
this descendant of Lemuel Gulliver
who schleps across the webbed wide wold.

Yours truly (an average
height and weight size ways)
nondescript grown
male munching kin
stands a little less than threefold
larger than full grown homunculi.

Rumor monger kickstarter
Matthew Scott Harris
posits nontrue tidbit
regarding rock 'n' roll star
who (name unmentioned)
became the most influential
musicians across the universe,
with estimated record sales
of around 600 million
as of two thousand twenty blank.

Imp possible mission
to see non elfish (pressed) lee
160 years after his Irish ancestor
crossed the Atlantic
curling his left lip,
whereby convalescing, peep ping auld
timers cavorting wax nostalgic with
itty bitty whippersnappers,
averse to any outliers,
whether hirsute or bald
an honest to goodness painstaking effort
initially stymied friendship proffered, a cold
reception eventually bedecked
hall of the mountain king
(while sharing diet of worms)
deep under verdantly
festooned knolls of Eire land.

A virulent virus spreads; everything's on pause.
Governments scramble to survive.
When leadership falters, life is more uncertain.
We see that with number Forty-five.

The president attempts to act presidential
But leaves us with a giant question mark.
At a time when honesty is needed more than ever,
We are often left out in the dark.

When leaders spout that certain things are more important
Than living, we should run the other way.
They have sold themselves to cruel heartlessness.
They're the predators and we, the prey.

We can do our best to live out our lives.
Let's not subject ourselves to blame,
Even though at times we can't help but feel
That we are merely pawns in a game.

Some governors tell us to get back to work
Before safety measures are in place.
To them we are nothing but numbers, figures--
Statistics in an deadly database.

Some irresponsible newscasters say,
"This is not so bad as it seems."
Downplaying the danger to satisfy their whims,
They hurt us all by spreading dangerous memes.

Playing with our lives, many leaders try
To judge our worth based on market price.
If we want to win, some of us must lose,
They say to us while handing us the dice.

We can do our best to live out our lives.
Let's not subject ourselves to blame,
Even though at times we can't help but feel
That we are merely pawns in a game.

-by Bob B (4-30-20)