Hearts another beat a second
A+ made the grade rare meat
Why is everything told to
us in a heartbeat
This is getting way too sweet
"Lips took Beeswax" bittersweet

Someone got stung B-
Strong sound muffler
Joyride Owl Hoot clever
Sweet and sourpuss
honey babe

Her mustard lips of custard
Hot temperature rising
The spicy lady opening
up new horizon gate

Too many sad rides
empty plates last joyride
Gas empty blame the county
Why did we call this joyride
without knowing
your fate

The others are more noticed
Fashionably they came late
Dine and the Wine joyride
romanced money upfront
advanced

Lips like jewels left their stale
You were the chosen one taken
for a ride from
a crooked male

Like bushel big loot basket
Rock the Kasbah rocket
Golden joyride ticket the
pickpocket
Getting away with ******
****** lips in the gasket

The joyride so beat looked
disheveled new love
unraveled
So messy but **** neat
looking, Lexus,
She looks mighty fine like
Venus, I beg you to zoom

And the love after all the treats
Sherlocked in his room
The devil made me do it
All flushed and deep red
Hearing his joyride of beats
What was really going
through her head
Hard rock ambient
painter deviant

The holiday like racing hot rod
Harvest Halloween of a joyride
Two peas in dark maze pod
Igniting a hot fire
Her lips need to decide
Who was underneath the
fumes of his fire

The coffee taste accelerating
Do we feel the pulsing beat
What a high anxiety peak
High intense flavor
You waiting for his joyride
Christmas and Hannukah
Tree to decide that's easier
But wait for true love above all
the gifts to deliver
Like bedrock meeting
Monster ride plant-eating Bug
More slugs my chinch
Inchworm of books at Joyride
College Dorm horn alarm
Manifestation enjoying
her joyride
What a conniver
Greece with my niece
vacation
Basil New rival tea
Pomegranate Cherry-bomb
Blonde Bombshell
Culture novelty joyride
Ring my servant bell
Met their sanity tomb

Her hand's dainty they shine
and sparkle
Her lips know how to jingle
Arace for hearts of stories
and memories
Always the death hand takes
a ride to the winding road of
the cemeteries
Just stay for the moment
think about the
Joyride forth of July
Our firecrackers went off at
the same time
Brie cheese favorite time
English tea and crackers
Like two lips sublime read
her diaries in his designer dockers

Going to the end of the earth lips
light up New York City galleries

Needing the fresh corner
Sunset taking lowrider Boulevard
Hollywood Oh! No world
Wildly satanic or the carefree type
Her joy smile he's sold on skype
Benevolent triad remembering
The mad magazine
MLM Maserati longevity Master
Of the joyride gun blaster
"Lips build like a Pyramid"
Becoming irresistible
Not to humble

Lips race Joyride to gamble
Nothing weakens to crumble
Baking a crumb cake its
doable stays together but
things unnamed not like
a marriage

We get blamed joyride
got damaged
We become gullible
What becomes of the broken heart
someone isn't reliable
Lips are not responsible
Leadership has you cornered  
To stumble upon her lips
Rendered steamboat surrender
How he tumbles
Mr. Grey Poupon Mustard seed
He plants her like his
only joyride
In need
We are all Jupiter the moon
joy to the world
All the boys and girls being
taken for joyrides

The Beach boy's video games
Spy lips whose to blame
Phillip screwdriver
But they take a ride
All you could pick a hot buffet
feasting she is still wearing
hot lipstick
Men have their choice of
they're next
Joyride Bride about the money
Wall-Street cars of hobbies
investing
Yeah right?

Corona Virus Poems

 
Index
The virus from hell is amused
End of the World
Every Day I Turn on the New
Irony Meters Blow Gaskets
Chaos
Corona Virus Fears Tanka
My Phobias Overwhelm Me
Fear Fills the Air
Is this the best we can get?
More Trouble Every Day
by pass the alarms spreading across the land
corona cinqku
Taking a Walk in the Corona Era
A lone man stands in an empty parking lot
hell of a world we live in ain’t it?
Pause for a moment amidst the media madness
I feel as if the whole world needs to be cancelled
The Virus King Cried
Bring out your dead
the Virus Came From Hell
The Delivery System of the Virus is Round
the corona virus is testing us all
the call goes out
the horsemen begin to ride
nature spirits revolts against humanity
Last Human on Island
Corona Virus Haiku
the virus came from hell
bring out your dead cries
Be Afraid  haiku
Death Comes Knocking
the virus from Hell haiku

 

the Virus from Hell is amused
the Virus from Hell is amused
laughing at the world’s panicked reaction
as it marches through the world unabated
infecting everyone in its wake
as the world awaits its fate
the virus smiles he ain’t no fake
he is the real deal
he is death itself
he is the end of the world
the grim reaper is smiling
god is silent as usual
the world’s leaders
dither and rather
as the economy craters
everyone hoping that God
will save them
the virus does not care
insults and orders do not work
the virus simply does its virus thing
infecting everyone it encounters
and thousands will die
equal opportunity offender
killing the rich and the poor alike
but more poor people
just so many more poor people
than the few billionaires
the virus smile
his work is done
and mankind is doomed
so be it the virus thinks




that is the way of the world
and the virus is the new king
of the world
 
End of the World
end of world
the fears world-wide
soon find us dead
bring out the dead
ll the dead die
death lies here there
there goes here
as death here comes
soon here death comes
 

Every Day I Turn on the News
debunking the bioweaapon conspiracy theories
every day I turn on the news
nothing but news about the virus
the virus from hell
the world is filled with fear
and my anxiety levels rise
every time I turn on the news
oh my god I say
we are all going to die
and I am so afraid
afraid of everyone
afraid of everything
dreading the latest news
and nothing relieves my fear
I watch the world
loosing its collective mind
wondering how much more of this
can  we all take
I scream out
Dear God save us all
god is silent as usual
and so I realized
we are doomed
perhaps it is the end times
perhaps not
I turn off the TV
try to stay calm
hoping the madness
will not overwhelm us all

 
Irony Meters Blow Gaskets
the Irony meter gasket
is blown again and again
with every statement
of our chaos president
and his endless surrogates
promoting the latest Presidential
on spot guidance by our great leader
that must be true
because our dear leader
says it is so
The President accuses his democratic rival
of being senile and needs to be in home
and will be run by his radical left allies
and the right wing media
echoes the presidential absurd comments
refusing to acknowledge
that the president himself
is rapidly fading into dementia
and his radical right cronies
are looting the government
driving out expertise
even in the midst of pandemic
Oh  yeah the irony meters
are blowing gaskets
every single day
 
Chaos
the world descends into chaos
as our world leaders
led by the chaos president
are overwhelmed
by the smallest
enemy of all
a simple virus
straight out of hell
blows through the crumbling
third world public health infrastructure
living proof of the decline of America
and no one is prepared
and panic ensures
with every Presidential tweet
as people don’t believe
a word he says
conspiracy rumors spread
everyone believes their own reality
as the world spins out of control
the chaos king is in his element
convince that only he knows
the deal
and everyone else
is iust a bit player
in the reality show
that he presides over
and so the rest of us
hunker down
just hoping for the best
as the panic and
chaos spreads faster
than the virus
are we doomed
can we survive
will God save us?
he is silent as always
 
Corona Virus Fears Tanka
Corona virus
lurking fears all around me
we all will die
the TV screaming nonstop
Must be afraid be afraid
 
My Phobias Overwhelm Me
lately I have become scared
of everything
the news scares me, the corona virus scares me, the presidential race scares me, fears of gun men in the street, terrorism, fears of getting sick, fears of dogs, fears of other people, fear of loosing money, fears of becoming demented old man, lost in his nightmares on the street just another invisible homeless *** in the end of his life
all these phobias overwhelm me
time to walk away from my fears
and realize
it will be alright
everything will be alright
As long as I have you
by my side
 
Fear Fills the Air

watching the news
CNNMSNBCFOXBBCKOREANNEWSJAPANESENEWSBLOOMBERABCCBSNBCGOOGLEA­PPLEREUTERSAPIRUSSIANTVCHINESTVFRENCHTV
blather on and on
the world is ending
pandemic is coming
we are going to die
and the fear grows
and the restrictions grow
travel comes to stop
the economy comes to  a stop
everyone is so afraid
our leaders fret
say that everything is fine
as the world enters
the second great depression
and we are faced
with the reality
all over the world
idiots in high places
the masters of the universe
are in charge
the internet spreads
the wildest rumors
must be true
I read it on the internet
the truth is lost
in the shuffle
no one believes anyone
everything thinks
that they know
it is all a conspiracy
the thought comes to mind
we are all so ’S….
end of the world
is upon us
 
is this the best we can get?
watching the news
one wonders
how in this great country
of ours
335 million people
among the most educated
richest people in the world
we can end up
with such idiots in high places
running out country?
these idiots in charge
no disrespect intended
both political parties
all corporations
and our institutions
except maybe the military
has been infected
by this virus
of epic incompetence
greed and indifference
to the general good
who loudly constantly proclaim
that they are Christians
while violating
all of Christ's teachings
Jesus if he came back
would scream out
I am not Christian
it is all about me
and mine
and you can go
to hell
if you dare to disagree
and so we tweet and titter
and watch the news
reading the latest rumors
and I wonder
if there is a god
or if there is a devil
and are we overwhelmed
by the dismal news
why can’t we have better
leaders
better people
in our leaders
around the world
has god abandoned us
are we in hell
or did god ever exist
except in our fevered imagination
will god save us all
or will the world
just go around the sun
indifferent to our pleas?
no answer
must watch the news
consumed by the need
to see the latest news
and so it goes
and I wake up
the sun is up
and the nightmares
fade away
until I watch the news
and the madness consumes
us all again and again
as the corona virus
marches on and on
consuming us all
as the world falls apart
these must be the end times
I hope I will be raptured away
even if I am not a Christian

More Trouble Every Day
The Old Zappa song plays
on in my head
every time I turn on the news
and see more trouble every day
no one can delay
the trouble coming every day
Frank Zappa died too soon
before the horrors of the Trump era
and the corona end of the world plague
that he would have foreseen
if he had lived on
he was truly a prophet
crying in the wildness
while making money
as an over night sensation
as he saw the slime
oozing out of the TV sets
we will do what we are told
for the rights to us have been sold
And Jesus too
has been sold
to the highest bidder
nothing but a business deal
in America
the land of the constant deal
and so I turn off the TV
and realize that
the torture never ends
the torture never ends
 
Trouble Every Day
more trouble every day  Frank Zappa
Well I'm about to get sick
From watchin' my TV
Been checkin' out the news
Until my eyeballs fail to see
I mean to say that every day
Is just another rotten mess
And when it's gonna change, my friends
Is anybody's guess
So I'm watchin' and I'm waitin'
Hopin' for the best
Even think I'll go to prayin'
Every time I hear 'em sayin'
That there's no way to delay
That trouble comin' every day
No way to delay
That trouble comin' every day
Wednesday I watched the riot...
I seen the cops out on the street
Watched 'em throwin' rocks and stuff
And chokin' in the heat
Listened to reports
About the whisky passin' 'round
Seen the smoke & fire
And the market burnin' down
Watched while everybody
On his street would take a turn
To stomp and smash and bash and crash
And slash and bust…
 
The Torture Never Stops
Frank Zappa
torture never stops
Flies all green and buzzin'
In this dungeon of despair
Prisoners grumblin
**** they clothes
Scratch their matted hair
A tiny light from a window-hole
Hundred yards away
That all they ever get to know
'Bout the regular life in the day
'Bout the regular life in the day
Slime and rot and rats and snuck
***** on the floor
Fifty ugly soldier men
Holdin' spears by the iron door
Stinks so bad, stones are chokin'
Weepin' greenish drops
In the den where
The giant fire puffer works
And the torture never stops
The torture never stops, torture
The torture never stops
The torture never stops
Flies all green and buzzin'
In this dungeon of despair
An evil prince eats a steamin' pig
In a tumbers right near there
In the chambers right near there
He eats de snouts an trotters first!…

 
by pass the alarms spreading across the land
to bypass the alarms spreading across the land
the circuit breakers are breaking down
as the alarms go on and on
with the end of the world
the end days approaching
spreading the alarm far and wide
 
corona cinqku
corona
it came from hell
we must be all prepared
meet God

 
Taking a Walk in the Corona Era
every day I go for a walk
in the spring time woods
near my house
braving the weather
and the dreaded corona virus
wearing masks and gloves
keeping a distance
from anyone we encounter
that is life it seems
in the era of the corona virus
when will it end
no one knows
until then
I will brave the viral threat
and confront my fears
and walk in the park
with the love of my life
my bride my wife
by my side
in these challenging times
that is all we can do
 
A lone man stands in an empty parking lot

contemplating the new normal
social distancing run amuck
as fears of the corona super plague
plague the land
driving everyone inside
sheltering in place
afraid to go out
afraid of the deadly c virus
 
It is a hell of a world we live in ain’t it?
It is a hell of a world we live in ain’t it?
said the old man to me
sitting on a bench
in the park in the woods
as we both sought shelter
from the spreading chaos
the pandemic swirling around us
Yes I said
standing up
to enforce the proper distance
between us
don’t want to give the virus a chance
to spread between us
he smiled and said
relax I already went through it
I am fine and you will too
 
Pause for a moment amidst the media madness
Pause for a moment amidst the media madness
All around us fears and chaos
Unlike the end of the world approaching us
Sadness overcomes us dooming us to our fate
Every we go nothing but death awaits
 
I feel as if the whole world needs to be cancelled
I feel as if the whole worldneeds to be canceled
due to rough times ahead
due to the corona madness
and the thread of pure craziness
that it inspires in us all
 
The Virus King Cried

the virus king smiled
as the politicians lied
saying that the end was near
the virus king infected thousands more
and killed hundreds of people
the virus king sneered
as people panicked
and partied on the beach
the virus king infected thousands more
and killed hundreds of people
the virus king laughed
as the markets crashed
millions became unemployed
the virus king infected thousands more
and killed hundreds of people
the virus king roared
as the world slid into chaos
people turning on one another
the virus king infected thousands more
and killed hundreds of people
the virus king smirked
knowing that there was nothing
that they could do to stop
his army from infecting millions
and killing thousands
the virus King begin to realize
that soon there would be no one left
no one for his army to infect
as everyone was dying
the virus King yelled
remaining defiant
as civilization collapsed
billions were infected
millions died
the Virus King at last cried
when he saw that he was defeated
as one by one
people began to recover
and his reign of terror came to an end

Bring out your dead
the call bring out your dead
spreads around the world
as millions die
all over the world
the virus has spread
mutated and killed
all over the world
bring out your dead
the mournful cries
echoing in the wind
of the dying cities
mass starvation
as no is working
in the fields
as more people die
and the world spins
around the sun
with the politicians lying
and the dead still dying
as civilization dies
and humanity flee
into the wilderness
chased by the killer virus
straight down to hell
 
the Virus Came From Hell
the virus came from hell
straight out of a mad lab
born and raised in China
the virus spread from Dinah
all over to carolina
it spread from the lab
the mad virus of Hell
was mad as hell at humans
who it blamed for everything
seeing itself as cleansing everything
killing the world and everything
revenge against humans
perhaps virus came from God
more likely came from Satan
part of natures’ revenge
all designed to avenge
the damage to Stonehenge
virus came from Satan
 
The Delivery System of the Virus is Round
the delivery system of the virus is round
very simple system
the virus spreads around
and all must pay the price
death and destruction
 
the corona virus is testing us all

the corona virus
is testing us all
is it a plague
sent by God

if we have faith
will we recover

or it is beyond our control
the end of the world

does god hear our prayers
does god even exist

the virus from hell
spreads around the world

and test our faith
will god save us all

I have no answer
but perhaps if god exists

we will recover
from this plague
from hell



The call goes out

the call goes out
stay at home
to beat the dreaded c virus

will we live
or all die?
 
the four horse men ready to ride

the end of the world is upon us
as god unleashes the corona virus
which is spreading across the land

the four horse men are ready
to begin their grim journal
announcing the end of the world

the white horse comes first
offering peace and hope
in the midst of death
and despair

the red horse rides second
ushering in war
throughout the world
as nations turn on each other
and civil war looms

the Black Horse is ready
unleashing famine
on a starving world
as people stay at home
and food rots in the field

no one is able
to work any more
as the virus kills more
and more

the pale horse rides last
bringing death
in his wake

death all around us
as the virus kills us all
and civilization ends

the four horse men
have done their job
the virus finishes its reign of terror
and the few survivors
beging to recover

end of the world
came and went
and they are still alive
thanks to God

who remains silent
as always

nature spirits revolt against humanity

all around the world
nature's spirits
are on the move

the world is changing
as the nature's spirits
rise up
in revolt against humanity

is this the end time
is nature on revolt
against humanity

is this the end for us all
will the virus **** us all
will nature rise up
and **** us all?
 
Last Human on Island

Last human on an island
in the deep blue sea
nothing there
but death and destruction

virus all around
pandemic plague
Apocalyptic views
end of times
death of civilization

 


corona virus

corona virus
staying home waiting for death
Afraid everything  
the virus came from hell

the virus came from hell
staying home waiting for death
Afraid everything  
Bring Out Your Dead

bring out your dead cries
break out all over the world
we are waiting death



death comes knocking

death comes knocking
on our doorsteps tonight
will God hear prayers



be afraid afraid

be afraid afraid
Must be afraid every one
Death is at our door


The Virus Came From Hell


the virus came from Hell
ravaging the entire world
all waiting for death

These are couplets written by Donald Trump and limericks and other Donald Trump poems "care of" Michael R. Burch (please note that these are parodies) ...

Not-So-Heroic Couplets
by Donald Trump
care of Michael R. Burch

To outfox the pox:
off yourself first, with Clorox!

And since death is the goal,
mainline Lysol!

No vaccine?
Just chug Mr. Clean!

Is a cure out of reach?
Fumigate your lungs, with bleach!

To immunize your thorax,
destroy it with Borax!

To immunize your bride,
drown her in Opti-cide!

To end all future gridlocks,
gargle with Vaprox!

Now, quick, down the Drain-o
with old Insane-o NoBrain-o!

Keywords/Tags: Donald Trump, coronavirus, president, poet, poems, poetry, heroic couplets, humor, Clorox, disinfectants, light verse, parody, satire, mrbtrump, mrbcouplets



What REALLY Happened
by Michael R. Burch aka "The Loyal Opposition"

Trump lied and lied and lied.
Americans died and died and died.



Grime Wave
by Michael R. Burch aka "The Loyal Opposition"

Donald Trump is ******* crime ...
unless it's his own grime.



Trump Love
by Michael R. Burch aka "The Loyal Opposition"

Trump "love" is truly a curious thing ...
does he care for our kids half as much as his bling?



Tangled Webs
by Michael R. Burch aka "The Loyal Opposition"

Oh, what tangled webs they weave
when Trump and his toupée seek to deceive!



No Star
by Michael R. Burch aka "The Loyal Opposition"

Trump, you're no "star."
Putin made you an American Czar.

Now, if we continue down this dark path you've chosen,
pretty soon we'll all be wearing lederhosen.



Raw Spewage (I)
by Michael R. Burch aka "The Loyal Opposition"

Trump
is a chump
who talks through his ****;
he's a political sump pump!



Green Eggs and Spam
by Michael R. Burch aka "The Loyal Opposition"

I do not like your racist ways!
I do not like your hate for gays!

I do not like your gaseous ****!
I do not like you, Crotch-Grabber Trump!

I do not like you here or there!
I do not like you anywhere!

Your brain's been trapped in a lifelong slump
And I do not like you, Hate-Baiter Trump!



Apologies to España
by Michael R. Burch aka "The Loyal Opposition"

the reign
in Trump’s brain
falls mainly as mansplain



Stumped and Stomped by Trump
by Michael R. Burch

There once was a candidate, Trump,
whose message rang clear at the stump:
"Vote for me, wheeeeeeeeeeeeeee!,
because I am ME,
and everyone else is a chump!"



Humpty Trumpty
by Michael R. Burch

Humpty Trumpty called for a wall.
Trumpty Dumpty had a great fall.
Now all the Grand Wizards
and Faux PR men
Can never put Trumpty together again.



The Hair Flap
by Michael R. Burch aka "The Loyal Opposition"

The hair flap was truly a scare:
Trump’s bald as a billiard back there!
The whole nation laughed
At the state of his graft;
Now the man’s wigging out, so beware!



Roses are red,
Daffodils are yellow,
But not half as daffy
As that taffy-colored fellow!
―Michael R. Burch



Trump’s real goals are obvious
and yet millions of Americans remain oblivious.
—Michael R. Burch



Poets laud Justice’s
high principles.
Trump just gropes
her raw genitals.
—Michael R. Burch



The Ex-Prez Sez

The prez should be above the law, he sez,
even though he’s no longer prez.
—Michael R. Burch



Quite Con-trary
by Michael R. Burch aka "The Loyal Opposition"

Trumpy, Trumpy,
fat, balding and lumpy,
how does your Rose Garden grow?
“With venom and spleen
and everything mean,
and my gasket about to blow!”

Trumpy, Trumpy,
obese and dumpy,
why are your polls so low?
“I claimed I was Cyrus
at war with a virus
but lost every time to the minuscule foe!”



Piecemeal, a Coronavirus poem
by Michael R. Burch aka "The Loyal Opposition"

And so it begins—the ending.
The narrowing veins, the soft tissues rending.
Your final solution is pending.
(Soon a portly & pale Piggy-Wiggy
will discount your death as "no biggie.")



Viral Donald (I)
by Michael R. Burch aka "The Loyal Opposition"

Donald Trump is coronaviral:
his brain's in a downward spiral.
That pale nimbus of hair
proves there's nothing up there
but an empty skull, fluff and denial.



Viral Donald (II)
by Michael R. Burch aka "The Loyal Opposition"

Why didn't Herr Trump, the POTUS,
protect us from the Coronavirus?
That weird orange corona of hair's an alarm:
Trump is the Virus in Human Form!



Red State Reject
by Michael R. Burch aka "The Loyal Opposition"

I once was a pessimist
but now I’m more optimistic,
ever since I discovered my fears
were unsupported by any statistic.



The Red State Reaction
by Michael R. Burch aka "The Loyal Opposition"

Where the hell are they hidin’
Sleepy Joe Biden?

And how the hell can the bleep
Do so much, IN HIS SLEEP?



The Final Episode of Celebrity Apprentice President
by Michael R. Burch aka "The Loyal Opposition"

Ronald McDonald
said to The Donald,
"Just between us clowns, your polls are too low!"
So The Donald thought hard
then said to his pard,
"It's because I'm a martyr. The world must know!"
Thus Eric Trump jumped
from his obese Trump ****
to declare the virus a "hoax." (End of show.)



modern Midas
by michael r. burch

they say nothing human's alive
yet the Hermit survived:

the last of His kind,
clean out of His mind.

they say He relentlessly washes His fingers,
as dainty as ever, yet the smell of death lingers.

they say it sets off His corona of hair
when He blanches with fear in his Mansion Faire.

they say He still spritzes each strand into place
though there’s no one to see in that hellish place.

they say there’s a moral in what He’s become
as He fondles gold trinkets and cradles His john.



Mother of Cowards
by Michael R. Burch aka "The Loyal Opposition"

So unlike the brazen giant of Greek fame
With conquering limbs astride from land to land,
Spread-eagled, showering gold, a strumpet stands:
A much-used trollop with a torch, whose flame
Has long since been extinguished. And her name?
"Mother of Cowards!" From her enervate hand
Soft ash descends. Her furtive eyes demand
Allegiance to her ****'s repulsive game.

"Keep, ancient lands, your wretched poor!" cries she
With scarlet lips. "Give me your hale, your whole,
Your huddled tycoons, yearning to be pleased!
The wretched refuse of your toilet hole?
Oh, never send one unwashed child to me!
I await Trump's pleasure by the gilded bowl!"




Toupée or Not Toupée, That is the Question
by Michael R. Burch aka "The Loyal Opposition"

There once was a brash billionaire
who couldn't afford decent hair.
Vexed voters agreed:
"We're a nation in need!"
But toupée the price, do we dare?



Toupée or Not Toupée, This is the Answer
by Michael R. Burch aka "The Loyal Opposition"

Oh crap, we elected Trump prez!
Now he's Simon: we must do what he sez!
For if anyone thinks
And says his "plan" stinks,
He'll wig out 'neath that weird orange fez!



White as a Sheet
by Michael R. Burch aka "The Loyal Opposition"

Donald Trump had a real Twitter Scare
then rushed off to fret, vent and share:
“How dare Bernie quote
what I just said and wrote?
Like Megyn he’s mean, cruel, unfair!”



Raw Spewage (II)
by Michael R. Burch aka "The Loyal Opposition"

Trump
is a chump
who talks through his ****;
he's a garbage dump
in need of a sump pump!



we did not Dye in vain!
by Michael R. Burch

from “songs of the sea snails”

though i’m just a slimy crawler,
my lineage is proud:
my forebears gave their lives
(oh, let the trumps blare loud!)
so purple-mantled Royals
might stand out in a crowd.

i salute you, fellow loyals,
who labor without scruple
as your incomes fall
while deficits quadruple
to swaddle unjust Lords
in bright imperial purple!

Notes: In ancient times the purple dye produced from the secretions of purpura mollusks (sea snails) was known as “Tyrian purple,” “royal purple” and “imperial purple.” It was greatly prized in antiquity, and was very expensive according to the historian Theopompus: “Purple for dyes fetched its weight in silver at Colophon.” Thus, purple-dyed fabrics became status symbols, and laws often prevented commoners from possessing them. The production of Tyrian purple was tightly controlled in Byzantium, where the imperial court restricted its use to the coloring of imperial silks. A child born to the reigning emperor was literally porphyrogenitos ("born to the purple") because the imperial birthing apartment was walled in porphyry, a purple-hued rock, and draped with purple silks. Royal babies were swaddled in purple; we know this because the iconodules, who disagreed with the emperor Constantine about the veneration of images, accused him of defecating on his imperial purple swaddling clothes!



Twinkle Wrinkles
by Michael R. Burch aka "The Loyal Opposition"

Twinkle, twinkle, little "star" ...
Trump, how we wished you blazed                 afar!

Twinkle, twinkle, Groper-Cupid ...
How we've wished you weren't so stupid!

Twinkle, twinkle, Man-Baby "president" ...
In truth you're just the White House resident.



Americans have the opportunity
to greatly improve their community
with votes a-plenty
in 2020.
Dump
Trump!
—Michael R. Burch



Joe Biden, Joe Biden,
our future is ridin’
on you defeatin’
and hidin’
that cancerous lump
called Trump.
—Michael R. Burch



The Perfect Storm
by Michael R. Burch

Stormy Daniels
is Trump's worst nightmare—
a truthteller,
a woman without fear,
full of *****,
unimpressed by his junk,
that he can't debunk.



Aftermath
by Michael R. Burch aka "The Loyal Opposition"

Carmen Yulín Cruz is a hero.
Donald Trump is a zero.



15 Seconds
by Michael R. Burch aka "The Loyal Opposition"

Our president’s *** life—atrocious!
His "briefings"—bizarre hocus-pocus!
Politics—a shell game!
My brief moment of fame
flashed by before Oprah could notice!



March for Our Lives
by Michael R. Burch

It's not a moment,
it's a MOVEMENT
created to save
innocents from the grave.



Tweety and Pootie
sittin' in a tree
K-I-S-S-I-N-G!
First comes love,
second comes marriage,
third barechested weasels in a White House carriage!
—Michael R. Burch



Three Trump Valentine's Day Poems

1.

If you're tall, blonde and pretty,
I'll grab your kitty.
If you're dark-skinned and short,
It's time to deport!

2.

I'll secure your southern border tonight,
as long as you're wearing white!

3.

If you're not
as hot
as my daughter,
beware;
prepare
for the slaughter!



Why did Trump endorse Roy "Score" Moore when Nostradumbass claimed he "knew" the Sludge Judge couldn't win? ...

Predators of a feather
flock together.
—Michael R. Burch



Kneeling Verboten
by Michael R. Burch aka "The Loyal Opposition"

Colin Kaepernick took a stand by kneeling;
now Donald Trump is reeling
as the NFL owners he implored
lock hands with the players he deplored.



How the Fourth ***** Ramped Up
by Michael R. Burch aka "The Loyal Opposition"

Trump prepped his pale Deplorables:
"You're easy marks and scorables!
Now when I bray
click your heels, obey,
and I'll soon promote you to Horribles!"



Trump Trumps "We The People"
by Michael R. Burch aka "The Loyal Opposition"

Trump fired Comey
to appoint a *****:
some pawn in his Kamp
with a big rubber stamp.

Out the window flew freedom!
Rights? You don't need 'em!
Like Attilâ the ***,
Trump answers to no one!

Do you think you have worth?
Trump makes you his serf.
He's your Lord and your Master:
you elected DISASTER.



Pass the Hat for the Fat Cat
by Michael R. Burch aka "The Loyal Opposition"

If you're a Fat Cat,
vote for an Autocrat;
otherwise, stick with a Democrat ...
or get ready to pass the hat
for yourself,
doomed by that strange little pixie-fingered orange elf.



****** Assaulter-in-Chief
by Michael R. Burch aka "The Loyal Opposition"

Ronald McDonald Trump Bozo
bopped Bill Clinton Clown on the nose: “Oh,
I’ll trump your cigar
with my groping, by far,
when I bounce interns on my Big Pogo!”



Trump's Donor Song
by Michael R. Burch aka "The Loyal Opposition"

(lines written after it became apparent that Trump is not
"draining the swamp" but stocking it with his crocodilian
donors and political piranha)

christmas is coming, the Trumpster's purse is flat:
please put a Billion in the Fat Cat's hat!
if you haven't got a Billion, a Hundred Mil will do.
if you haven't got a Hundred Mil, the yoke's on you!



Alt-Right White Christmas
by Michael R. Burch aka "The Loyal Opposition"

Trump's dreaming of a White Christmas,
just like the ones he used to know
when black renters groveled
or lived in hovels
while he laughed and shouted **-**-**!



*******
by Michael R. Burch aka "The Loyal Opposition"

Trump
Is a chump,
He’s an
Orange Heffalump.
His hair?
Made of batter.
His brain?
***** matter.
His “plans”?
A disaster.
His “position”?
Your Master!



Fool's Gold
by Michael R. Burch aka "The Loyal Opposition"

THE DONALD has won (so we're told).
If it's true, worthless swampland's been sold!
But who were the buyers?
Poor folks who trust liars
and pay through the nose for fool's gold.



Bunko
by Michael R. Burch aka "The Loyal Opposition"

Agent Orange is full of bunk:
Tiny-fingered, he claims a big "trunk."
And his "platform"? Oh my,
I think we'd all die!
And he can't even claim he was drunk!

NOTE: Donald Trump claims that he doesn't drink alcohol, except when he partakes of Holy Communion. However, Trump insulted the body and blood of Jesus Christ when he spoke dismissively of his "little *******" and "little wine." He claims to be a Christian, but also said that he never asks God for forgiveness! Is he punch drunk or just pulling our legs about being a Christian?



De-Bunko
by Michael R. Burch aka "The Loyal Opposition"

There's something I'd like to debunk:
the GOP's not in a "funk."
The Donald, by choice,
is its unfiltered voice.
Vote for someone who's sane, or we're sunk!



Fooling Around
by Michael R. Burch aka "The Loyal Opposition"

Ronald McDonald Trump-Bozo
cried, “Clinton Clown cheats with his yo-yo!
He plays fast and loose!
It’s clearly abuse!
Whereas broads love to bounce on my pogo!”

BTW, it's amusing that Rudy Giuliani is now Trump's surrogate, defending him from accusations of ****** assault and other improprieties by scores of women, when in a 2000 "Mayor's Inner Circle" video, Giuliani in drag had his "*******" schmoozed by The Donald, after which Giuliani slapped his face and called him a "***** boy." Obviously, Giuliani was well aware of Trump's reputation for grabbing and groping women without bothering to ask for their permission! Trump's outrageous behavior was a running joke among alpha males in his circle. In 1993, fellow bad boy Howard Stern asked Trump directly: “So you treat women with respect?” Trump answered honestly: “No, I can’t say that either.” And hundreds of chauvinistic public statements and tweets by Trump confirm that he doesn't treat women with respect, or minorities, or anyone that he considers "weak" or "overweight" or "unattractive."



Trumping Tots
by Michael R. Burch aka "The Loyal Opposition"

Things that go bump in the night
fill Herr Trump with irrational fright;
his brain hits the skids;
he shrieks, "Ban dark kids!"
Where's his self-lauded "courage" and "might"?
Is cowardice Trump's kryptonite?



Trump Explains Why His Hair Looks Like ****: It's Been Bleached By Drool
by Michael R. Burch aka "The Loyal Opposition"

"Although my hands are quite tiny,
I have an enormous hiney;
so I stick my head in,
predicting I’ll win,
while everyone kisses it shiny!"



The Name and Blame Game
by Michael R. Burch aka "The Loyal Opposition"

If you have a slightly offbeat name,
you'll be de-planed, detained, restrained, defamed.
Supremacists know pure white names are best,
so be prepared to prove you're among the Blessed.
(Woe unto those who fail Trump's Litmus Test!)



Trump the Game Plan
by Michael R. Burch aka "The Loyal Opposition"

There once was a huckster named Trump
who liked to be kissed on the ****.
He promised awed voters
if they'd be his promoters,
he'd magically fix up their dump.

Now the voters were dreaming of Ronald
and hoping they'd found him in Donald.
And so, lightly "thinking"
after much heavy drinking,
they put out, as if they'd been fondled.

But once he'd secured the election
Trump found his fans cause for dejection.
"I only love tens!"
he complained to his "friends,"
then deported them: black, white and Mexican.

Thus Donald fulfilled his sworn duties
by ridding the land of non-cuties.
Once the plain Janes were gone
he could smile on his throne
surrounded by imported beauties!



Egad,
what a cad;
the Orange Heffalump
scowls when he sees
a baby bump!
Like the Grinch who stole Christmas
(but every day of the year),
The Donald eyes happy
mothers with a leer!
―Michael R. Burch

NOTE: Donald Trump actually body-shamed Kim Kardashian for having a baby bump, saying that she was "large" and ought to watch the kind of clothes she wears in public!



Donald Trump Campaign Songs

Christmas is coming!
Tycoons are getting fat!
TRUMP says, "Take a ****
in some beggar's hat!
Beat him to a pulp
then run him out of town
if he dares object to
the MAN with the GOLDEN CROWN.
And if you're not a Christian,
nothing else will do!
But if you're just like TRUMP,
then may TRUMP bless you!
―Michael R. Burch



SANTA CLAWS is coming to town!
He sees Spics when they're sleeping
and Blacks when they're awake!
He knows that Whites are always good,
but dark skin is God's mistake.
So if you're some poor orphan
with slightly darker skin,
BIG BROTHER will be WATCHING
all blacks and Mexicans!
―Michael R. Burch



Poets laud Justice’s
high principles.
Trump just gropes
her raw genitals.
—Michael R. Burch



Dark Shroud, Silver Lining
by Michael R. Burch

Trump cares so little for the silly pests
who rise to swarm his rallies that he jests:
“The silver lining of this dark corona
is that I’m not obliged to touch the fauna!”



Zip It
by Michael R. Burch

Trump pulled a cute stunt,
wore his pants back-to-front,
and now he’s the **** of bald jokes:
“Is he coming, or going?”
“Eeek! His diaper is showing!”
But it’s all much ado, says Snopes.



Mini-Ode to a Quickly Shrinking American Icon
by Michael R. Burch

Rudy, Rudy,
strange and colludy,
how does your pardon grow?
“With demons like hell’s
and progress like snails’
and criminals all in a row!”



Christmas is Coming
alternate lyrics by Michael R. Burch

Christmas is coming; Trump’s goose is getting plucked.
Please put the Ukraine in his pocketbook.
If you haven’t got the Ukraine, some bartered Kurds will do.
But if you’re short on blackmail, well, the yoke’s on you!

Christmas is coming and Rudy can’t make bail.
Please send LARGE donations, or the Cause may fail.
If you haven’t got a billion, five hundred mil will do.
But if you’re short on cash, the LASH will fall on you!

Keywords/Tags: Trump, Donald Trump, poems, epigrams, quotes, quotations, Rudy Giuliani, Ted Cruz, Cancun, Christmas, evil, democracy, coup, treason, treasonous, coronavirus, president, poet, poems, poetry, heroic couplets, couplet, humor, humorous, Clorox, Lysol, disinfectants, light verse, parody, satire, America



In My House
by Michael R. Burch

I was once the only caucasian in the software company I founded and managed. I had two fine young black programmers working for me, and they both had keys to my house. This poem looks back to the dark days of slavery and the Civil War it produced.

When you were in my house
you were not free—
in chains bound.

"Manifest Destiny?"

I was wrong;
my plantation burned to the ground.
I was wrong.

This is my song,
this is my plea:
I was wrong.

When you are in my house,
now, I am not free.

I feel the song
hurling itself back at me.

We were wrong.
This is my history.

I feel my tongue
stilting accordingly.

We were wrong;
brother, forgive me.

Published by Black Medina

Keywords/Tags: Race, Racism, Black Lives Matter, Equality, Brotherhood, Fraternity, Sisterhood, Tolerance, Acceptance, Civil Rights



Instruction
by Michael R. Burch

Toss this poem aside
to the filigreed and the prettified tide
of sunset.

Strike my name,
and still it is all the same.
The onset

of night is in the despairing skies;
each hut shuts its bright bewildered eyes.
The wind sighs

and my heart sighs with her—
my only companion, O Lovely Drifter!
Still, men are not wise.

The moon appears; the arms of the wind lift her,
pooling the light of her silver portent,
while men, impatient,

are beings of hurried and harried despair.
Now willows entangle their fragrant hair.
Men sleep.

Cornsilk tassels the moonbright air.
Deep is the sea; the stars are fair.
I reap.

Originally published by Romantics Quarterly


Published as the collection "Not-So-Heroic Couplets"

I'm just a man.
I think things can be fixed.

My first aid kit contains
Super glue and duct tape.

Any box is a tool box to me;
I'll always look for the right

***** to reattach your self-
Esteem; the right clamps to hold

Your good days together. When
You cry, I want to open you up

Gently, lay out all your parts and
Find the leaking gasket.

I tried to quit smoking last week. And my best friend died for eighteen hours. Such a deep loss has only been felt by rose hips, in the early winter, after the petals have fallen to the ground, like snow, like jumpers from high-rise buildings, like a maiden, after that last, fatal step off the plank, with swords at her back, and the horizon calling to her, the song of the Sirens drifting up from the ocean floor. Dropping, like petals, caught in a harsh winter breeze. The left-overs, the carcases of the flowers that were and are no more, watch with eyes of sorrow and hearts of lead, as each friend, companion, lover, even casual aquaintance plummets, to land on the already frozen soil of a dead, snowless, Colorado winter.
I died with my friend. My roots were tangled, and with each second that passed, a million axes took bites out of them, feasting on my identity. The axes were only gold-plated, it would seem, and not pure, unadulterated precious metal. Engraved in the paper-thin facade was a name, a face, and a hope, all of which were merely a poor excuse for an excersise in willpower. The cold, iron blade shone through the thin, gently curved lines of lip and ear and eye made of nebula. With each breath that passed between loosely parted lips, I felt myself fade, giving my everthing to the world (hope, name, face) that had, only moments before, murdered my closest companion.
My eyes grew steadily hard, increased stone-content. By 6:30, I had been staring into the eyes of my mistress, Medusa, for at least two hours, my head filled with love songs and daydreams, clutching straws and holding out for the one perfect moment that would shed a brief light on my life, which is, in all reality, the afformentioned pirate ship, but void of lamps, candles, or any other means of illumination.
Questions flowed to the surface of my disjointed mind in a stream, a river, an oceanic current of molten rock and sloppy second guesses.
(Will one hurt? Half? Just one puff? Why? Why? Why?)
And as I turned to stone, I finally found the courage to answer one of the questions that my brain shot itself with, injected into its own blood stream. The question was the sole bullet in a revolving, high-stakes betting game, the answer, the fourth trigger pull, with only two chances left anyway.
(Because... I don't know why...)
So stand up, go to the place you have thought about two-million times, and, yes, smoke, smoke, smoke that cigarette.
As my friend rose from the dead, pushing aside the boulder blocking the entrance to its tomb, which everyone knew was just a temporary tenement, and we were reunited, we spoke of fascists. Well, I spoke of fascists, it listened. I spoke of the kind of fascists that exist in grayscale television commercials, spewing ingnorant words about the untimely deaths of beloved family members, who give me ***** looks in public, and have forced me into alleyways, across streets, out of sight, out of mind, to the back of the bus, as if non-smokers live forever, as if everyone can accomplish said impossible feat, if not for the evil plant, the evil spiritual plant that poses a threat to the well-ordered religious structures, pyres built for martyrs and long-dead saviors.
I have only begged for eternity once, and I was very young, with years of rocks and hard places ahead, only pink clouds behind, and eyes incapable of foresight. This boy ate apples, and drew on his arms with black pen every Sunday. Go into the church clean, bathed, come out with temorary full-sleeve tattoos. This boy was made of wonder, myth, and blind acceptance. No longer.
I have now gazed into an eternity made of open graves, lost loves, and harsh, barbed-wire truths, punctuated with sharp, jabbing exclamation points of brief pleasure that only seem to make the reality of eternity worse. I am a *******, and even I don't want that. A body can only function for so long without sleep before the motor wears out, the radiator breaks, the gasket leaks, and the marbles flee from the growing insanity of their owner. We all need to rest eventually, and in my secret mind - the one that grimaces with sick pleasure and only shows its teeth in the lines of a poem, slightly blurred by metaphor - I long for that sleep. I am tired, but the day is only half done. But each sun sets, and we can not deny it that truth, that sensation of finality that settles upon senile eyes like a cataract, that snuggles against warm, pink lungs in all its black, tar-like splendor.
Truth, like so many other things in this solar system, only takes shape when under the eye of a microscope, with a passive viewer sewn to the end of it, with the sole intention of passing judgement before shouting "NEXT," and repeating the process untill they either run out of things to judge (blame, think, guilt-trip) or die.
So, smoke, smoke, smoke that cigarette. Puff, puff, puff it and let us hope they never get to either of us, old friend.

To Tory and Lucinda, you finally got your poem*

Ok honey, I’m about to go
I’m about to blow a gasket
I’ve been working all day
Like a regular dog, got up
At the crack of dawn.
I’ve been saying yes Sir
All day at work and
I’ve been saying yes
M’am all the time to
You and now I’m
Ready to go. You
Can only push a
Man so far before
He loses the will
Or the effort
To try and please
Someone who
Can never be
Pleased. I
Need to get
My things
Together
And jus’
Reacquaint
Myself
With Jim Beam
Because I’ve been being
Good for much too long.
Now a good boy's gone bad
I’m now taking my time off
For bad behaviour.

The Cons fed no rations...hahaha

The house breaking Burglars are Chris, Joan, Tom and Kelly
Ably assisted by Jim and Cindy, the black and white *******
who broke up their families, move in together, to **** each other
Life's too short, forget abandoned spouses, what the hell, ok
Then there's Linda, who's had three husbands in ten years
all leaving after a while, leaving her with two kids
to look after, what a palaver, where's a true lover
These ******* ****, use and take then do a runner
Her trust in ******* men ruined to pieces and no nookie

All dysfunctional lives, full of pain, angry at the world
Yes we're in Limehouse, but do we have to **** sour juice
They're all seeking to vent, seeking revenge for their miseries
Look that couple upstairs, always bright, styled like Vogue
neat and tidy, full of laughter, going places, yuppie cts
See quiet husband, walks like Bowie, with a kin of **** swagger
And the wife so cute and petite, drives the shiny Red Mini
He ***** her every night, I hear them, I tell you
Their skins glows, shines like the sun, too happy by half

Chris the Scot married to strife and bother
The criminal life is such wahala, police here and there
its hide and seek, no money, no nookie, no nothing
Well OK, there's Tennants and Special Brew to drown the blues
****** hubby again in Wormwood Scrubs serving ******* Majesty
Tom ain't stealing as much as father, have to beg next door again
Joan is ******* and ain't making no money, now in the duff
only fifteen, by ******* Nobby, from the Young ******* Socialist Brigade, Kelly is also ******* and only twelve, what a life
Ahh ....  life on the Estate is life in *******

Listen you all, here's the deal, here's the number
Those ******* Happy couple at number fifteen
Why ain't them struggling like us all, where's the cushty
You don't see them carping, the ******* are loaded,
Them knobs have it all, smiling and laughing like *******
Let put some fire up their *****, let's teach them street life
Hears they think they are royalties, let tax their ****** *****
I'll be the lookout, you kick in the ****** doors
Liberate their valuables, we'll all have a party

******* Nora, the quiet man has blown a frigging gasket
Says he gonna tell all we are crooks, gonna evict us, the fool
Go get the posse, go put out a contract, a ****** for the jump
We are Eastenders, born by Bow bells, and we look after our own
How ****** dare the toffee nosed tory, says I should go get a job
as if, working for honest gain is our thing, ****** idiot
Yes mate, the boys are out, the contract is on
Let's see Jackanory tell us a bleeding story
Hero to Zero is now playing at Roman Street market

Break them up, mash  them down, ruin their lives
lets play 'trading Places, see how the cts feels
I already see cool man strung up. dangling on a rope
How dare they live happy and comfortable
two wages, car, dining out, new attire every day
Come on Jim, Cindy, Linda, all go get your mates
There's work to be done, no time to play
We are the TUC, that's Thieves United Confederation
And we've got the ******* Red Boys in the Team

It's down Tobacco road for Mr Tory, the bleeding ******
Ain't no more laughter, we'll put them in the gutter
Lie and slander, defame and harass, topple Saddam
Get the ******* Red mill going, its round Robin time
How's yer father,  no more mate, not ****** likely for a while
Yer only leg-over is gonna be legging it to the Social Security
Its Dole time, pain and miseries for you sunshine
Sing a song of hate, pariah on a roundabout
Yer marathon man now mate, come meet the Red Devils

Here, They need no ******* introduction

I broke my toilet
And my narrative
Humor was profound like the war

I was in a strange place most call it Florida the land of sweltering heat and bad choices .
I had no friends to speak of I was alone afraid but not naked unlike those ******'s on TV .

Hey **** **** the rude oversized man yelled at me from my comfy usal sleeping place underneath the booth .

What did I ******* tell you bout sleeping in this place ?
Umm honestly dude I was to drunk to remember that and I was far to busy trying to pick up your sister man she's gotta great rack your family must be so proud.

look ******* I'm tired of your **** and smart mouth every night its the same old **** with you .
You get blasted insult half the place then crawl off and try to sleep making me have to beat your *** and toss you out the door you ever get tired of getting slapped around?

Well now that you put it that way it does seem like a vicious cycle
but hey I mean does your sister ever tire of turning tricks in the restroom to help pay for your *** change ?

The over sized bouncer seemed slightly upset at that last comment as his steroid fed veins popped up on his neck wow he must be really ******* guess it truly would matter to someone who cared .

You ******* I'm going beat the **** out of your drunken *** .
I just love it when you talk **** sweetheart but why not skip the foreplay I mean sure who doesn't enjoy some heavy petting and **** grabbing maybe a sloppy kiss or two I'm kidding only women dig that **** men don't need to set the mood usually.
Hey want to ****?
Works just fine ah romance isn't it grand?

The muscle bound frustrated weight lifter was on the verge of blowing a gasket but I never judge a man by his ****** preference I mean seriously I went to college I mean  I didn't study there or anything but hey at those drunken frat parties its not like anyone noticed I didn't belong .
Besides the jocks were far to busy trying to ******* the cheerleaders .

Yeah remind me never to dress up like a cheerleader again on Halloween .
And never tell a football **** you used to be a tight end
that **** hurt but enough with memory lane darlings .

My ******* dance partner slash sleep interrupting bouncer ******* .
Was licking his chops just imaging the thought of twisting my spine in several directions  .

Sure  he may not have been smart but when you bench press a small car and stand seven foot tall does it truly ******* matter?

For a second my buzz wore off and allowed something I seldom have to slip back into my thoughts .
Common sense cause the thought of being turned into a human basket ball truly didn't sound all that alluring

Look Conan sure you can get all  riod raged over my lack of respect for the rules but much like ******* who own this site you will learn its best to ignore me and bury my work while eight year olds trend ripping off pop songs  .
And yes kids that's what we call a dig  don't worry  its far from the last .

I mean sure we can fight you can break my bones bruise my ego but one way or the other I will probably surprise you much like your parents did when they informed you weren't really there's.
I mean most people want to wash the **** off them the gorillas at the zoo throw at them .
Where your mom cleaned it up took it home and named it whatever the hell your name is.

You ******* loud mouthed ***** that's it no more talking lets do this .
There wasn't any reasoning with this unhappy muscle monkey .
Guess my charm was lost in his lift heavy things up then put them down logic .

We went into the alley along with half the people that were in the bar apparently they truly were starved for entertainment.
That and they wanted to see me be murdered.
Tuff crowd must have been something I said .

Kick his ******* *** Frank! One guy yelled .
Yeah break his jaw Franky another woman said .
Don't worry this is going to be a cake walk guys.

The bouncer said as he pounded his fist into his hand a few times .
For all his puffing up he seemed perplexed why I  hadn't even taken off my glasses or put down my beer for that matter .

I just viewed him getting more and more angry as I laughed .
Only further enraging him more .

What the ******* laughing at ******!!!
You really really sure you want to do this big guy?
Yeah stupid why you think I'm out here ?

Honestly I thought for a change of atmosphere maybe the smell of some fresh garbage in the air.

Just shut the **** up the talk ends now!!!

He walked forward his hands clenched but was thrown off as I put my hands up .
I just got to say before this sorry .

What the hell are you talking bout you stupid ******* ?
Well sorry cause it's really going to hurt there big guy .

Yeah when I crush your skull you got that right *******!.

No silly muscle man my surprise.
He laughed looking at me as if I were  half insane almost puzzled much the way most people view me .

What ******* surprise !?

I took a nice long sip of my bourbon and coke .
Well big guy your standing in a puddle of **** and I got a police issue tazer .

He didn't even have a chance to look down as he would have noticed the little red dot on his chest .

Oh **** was all that the mountain of a man muttered as his body was lit up like a Christmas tree.

The thud sounded like a old oak hitting the ground .
I kept pulling the trigger as he flopped around like a fish outta water .
The crowd looked at me with a sense of disgust the old woman who had cheered on the want to be pro wrestler to break my neck  .

Looked at me and said you are a no good cheat .
Why thank you my drunken washed up old **** of a friend .

They all began to head back into the bar as I left the human boulder laying in a puddle of **** .

Remember children never fight fair always fight to win.

Fin.

Obese

There once was a man, who lived in the city,
he thought his life was pretty ******.
Had no family, friends or a job,
this ******* was a six hundred pound slob.
Sat home eating food all day,
collecting welfare, so he didn't have to pay.
Couldn't bend over to tie his shoes,
if not eating, he'd be taking a snooze.
Waddling himself to the local store,
buying food and nothing more.
Can't fit in any car or truck,
**** his life must really ****.
Too fat to wipe his own ***,
gets rid of ****** berries, by rolling in the grass.
Five years later he was eight hundred pounds,
hired a nurse who made her daily rounds.
Too fat now, can't even leave his bed,
she would feed him and wash him toes to head.
Better her doing all that than me,
I like standing when I have to ***.
Two years later he finally died,
no one cared, no one cried.
He was forklifted to an over sized casket,
his heart finally blew a gasket.
Well I am here to say, I cared for this fat ****,
even though everywhere he went, he got stuck.
He was human, just like the rest of us,
not his fault, he was heavier than a tour bus.
If not for him, there would be no rhyme,
and I wouldn't be wasting your precious time.

I hate you and your new car.
                                             I hope every time you go to the gas station, it's three dollars per gallon. I hope you make so many enemies that there's a line to sugar your gas tank, I hope your engine knocks and your head gasket blows and your timing belt snaps and your rims warp and your tires pop every time you pass my street. I could still beat you in a race, even with your ugly sport package and plasti-dipped grill, I could still beat you in a race because I am angrier than you. I am angrier than you, and I always will be.
                                                             ­                                   I hate you,
                                                            ­                       And I hate your new car.

I am a machine
How 'bout that
I ought to run lean
But I am not clean

Ran over a cat
Made quite an impression
My passenger spat:
"That feline is flat"

Intake, compression
Ignition, exhaust
Here's my confession
(Oh what an obsession)

And what is the cost
For sweet release?
For toxins tossed?
Redeem what is lost

I ****, squeeze,
Bang, blow...
Forget to say please,
Run hot with ease

My fluids are low
I'm 'bout to run dry
A gasket might go
And oil won't flow

Oh why even try
This machine is obscene
My insides will fry
And soon I will die

There was a time when my oldest was young, we thought we were going to lose him.  It all started with recurring headaches he would have.  These headaches became more frequent and intense over a few months.  Next, tremors started to acompany the headaches.

After countless trips to the Doctor and many days of having to leave work to go get our son from school and help him thru these episodes, I blew a gasket.  I demanded a CT scan.  I think that the only reason the Doctor agreed to it was to shut me up.  But I knew in my Mother's gut, that these were not migraines.

The day of that CT scan, they had my son lie down on the table.  They injected a tranq into his I.V.  The CT started.  I sat in an area where it allowed me to see my son and hear the technicians.  At first they were very chatty with one another.  One tech said, "He is asleep now, we can proceed."  They spoke in general terms about this and that as the scan continued.  Then the dread words were said by one ...."Oh ****!"  the tech said.  After that, silence.  No more chit chat.  Nothing.  My heart dropped.

After the scan was over, I was told that I would be hearing from his Doctor in about 24 hours.

Two weeks later, I recieved a call from the Docotors scheduling nurse.  "Why haven't you come in to see the Doctor?"  She demanded.  I explained that I was told that the office would be calling me to schedule an appointment.  The she exclaims..."You need to get in here right now.  Don't you know how serious this is?"  
WELL I DID NOW!

Long story short, he had an arachnoidal cyst.  The left temporal lobe of his brain was not there.  In its place was a large fluid filled sack.  The pressure was causing all the symptoms he had.

After more visits and much gut wrenching, the surgery day arrived.

It went well.  He has a tube implanted just under the skin that runs from his skull to his belly to let fluid drain.

But the place I want to guide you to now, is in the Hospital room.

There was our son.  Lying in the big white hospital bed.  he himself, almost as white as the sheets.  his head bandaged, tubes everywhere.  In the room with me were two friends from work and our younger son.  Two years younger.  So he was 5.

As our son started to wake up, his first words were.."Where's my brother?"

His brother flew to his side.  "I'm right here!"  he said as he grabbed his older brothers hand.  Very weakly Jess was able to say   "I love you Mike."  Mike in turn said  "I love you Jess."

That was the one and only time I cried during the whole ordeal.

Jess made a complete recovery.  No Problems.  The rest of his brain had taken over the work the temporal lobe was suppose to do.  A miracle.

What I found so amazing was that I never once shed a tear during the lead up and the findings and the aftermath.  Not untill I heard those words expressed by my sons to one another.

Most children would want their Mother or Father at a time like that.

Nope!  My boys were joined at the hip, so to speak.  Those few words spoken to each other confirmed the special bond I knew they had, that has never wavered.

Its blinking at me,
And its listening.
Its pondering my friend,
yet we are mincemeat
in the presence of absence.
The hole of the whole
Devouring, and falling out on its own accord.

Let the hand go to work and put the mind to rest,
Quiet the outside and lose yourself to dying-
on a sheet of paper,
on your way there,
in a waste basket ,
in a blown gasket.....

Find a space between the void
and peer into the eyes of a world
a tad perturbed
when you look too long
and things move to fall
that would not have before.

...but who's to boast?
Encapsulated in capsules
to see where my cap goes
to see the eyes of souls.
to know to atoll.

You only can die but once, they say,
There isn’t a second time,
We carry fears all along the years
When we think, which day is mine?
We envisage that marble headstone
That’s indicative of our fate,
Standing ***** in some unknown field,
And wonder about the date.

How often we hear that someone said
While trying to be more than brave,
But shuddering at the thought of the dead,
‘Someone just walked on my grave.’
It creeps on up, the length of your spine
The shiver that never ends,
Bringing a list of your sins to mind
With no time to make amends.

You think of that open casket,
And lying there sightlessly,
So all can stare, and look at you there,
‘I’m glad that it isn’t me.’
We wonder if we will hear them sigh
About all the good we did,
Or even know, if terror will grow
The moment they close the lid.

I think about Averill Crombie
Who said that she knew the date,
And suddenly died as she sat wide-eyed
Poking the fire in the grate.
We all went along to the service,
To say our goodbyes, as we should,
But then our hair, stood up in the air,
On hearing three taps on the wood.

We scrambled to open the coffin,
To find her still breathing in there,
And then she began to start coughing,
******* in lungfuls of air.
She tried to climb out of the casket
With many a cuss and a curse,
But then must have blown a gasket,
So we carried her into the hearse.

You only can die but once, they say,
There isn’t a second time,
She knew the date, it was simply fate
But the first time blew her mind.
I still see them lower her into the ground
When she’d died, just twice, perhaps,
But I couldn’t swear, when leaving her there
That there weren’t three ghostly taps.

David Lewis Paget

Bernie Sanders hatched a scheme
to rant an old progressive theme.
He left the greening mountain heights
to bellow forth for Social Rights
descending to our nation's valleys
milking the faithful at his rallies.
Mr. Sanders sold the farm,
sounded socialist alarm;
Trading professorial tweeds
for bloviating human needs.
He set the lefties all a-twitter
bartering the sweet for bitter.
He glared through academic glasses
at the doubtful working classes
wondering why they failed to note
just why and how they ought to vote.
Sanders patched up race-relations
fixing holes with reparations,
working up his magic wonder:
horsey voice of righteous thunder
till the clouds hung heavy and gray
portent of a darker day...
Warming up leftover Hope
he spared no change for hangman's rope,
sputtering on, he blew a gasket
redistributing our basket
scolding, bellowing, pumping fist
and waving fingers from the wrist
like politburo retro-chic
a tousled old white-headed freak.

Let me begin, insecurities are disastrous for people, you may think yourself ugly when really you are perfect and beautiful. Don't believe the lies by what envious people say, don't let them slam you down. Don't let negativity engulf you, don't judge yourself, or hate yourself. If you don't like how you feel or how you look, you can work it out in the gym or in a counseling session. Treat your body as if it were a temple. Develop healthy habits instead impulsively bad habits. Sometimes the biggest supporter and your biggest opponent can be yourself. Its a constant battle with your mind, your heart and your emotions. Don't blow a gasket but don't keep it all in, you have to learn how to have self-control. You are beautifully and wonderfully made. Anything is possible if you put your mind to it. A healthy mind and heart creates a happy attitude. Accept that you can never be perfect, but that is what makes up who you are. The person who friends and family can look up too. The person who doesn't care what others think. Because now you know that you are exuberantly jaw dropping gorgeous.

"What do you want for breakfast?"

"Blueberry pancakes."

And she got out of bed,
tapped me on the neck with her lips,
a good love tap,
and walked out naked to the kitchen
her *** and quads just bouncing
and beautiful.

I could see her in the kitchen,
all of her,
and i rolled over to her side,
where her pillow was,
took a long drag
of her smell,
and just passed out.

She woke me up
and I dipped blueberries
and fluff into lakes of syrup
and we watched TV and laid together
for a while.

Just close to each other.

I worked on her car the whole day,
changed her oil,
plugged a blown gasket,
and came back in when the streetlights
were starting to flicker on
And that Saturday
I got to lay down with her the rest of the night
and we were realistically happy.

What I really think it was,
was that
our dreams,
when we allowed them to,
coincided
beautifully.

A red cloud
Blew a gasket
Through the wall
Hot steam
Cleansed furniture, floors
But the freeze outside
Made the windows
Constrict and shatter
And a red cloud was empty
Another is full
They drift
Through peaks
And disperse
To the ground
In pieces

So MARY loved a little lamb—
Especially on her plate.
But watch out, Mary: too much lamb
Can make you overweight.
 
HUMPTY DUMPTY sat on the wall.
Learn from his mistake.
If you are not mindful, you
Could also fall and break.
 
A TISKET, a TASKET,
Forget about a basket.
Do what you are told
Or your folks will blow a gasket!
 
JACK SPRAT could eat no fat.
Too much fat could **** him.
But mounds of veggies on his plate
Certainly don't thrill him.
If MRS. SPRAT could eat no lean
And just the fatty parts,
Wasn’t her cholesterol level
Jumping off the charts?
 
MISTRESS MARY, quite contrary,
Brags about her garden,
Which, she adds, is quite unique.
****! Oops, beg your pardon.
Are silver bells and cockle shells
Much to brag about?
I guess they are more practical
When there is a drought.
 
JACK B. NIMBLE was pretty slick,
Although he was a nut.
Don’t play around with candlesticks,
Or you could burn your ****.
 
EENY MEENY MINY MOE...
Invest your money and watch it grow.
It’s good to save and not to owe,
EENY MEENY MINY MOE...
 
GEORGIE PORGIE made the girls cry
Every time he kissed ‘em.
They didn’t like that chauvinist
And the way he dissed ‘em.
 
Did JACK AND JILL go up the hill
Really to get water?
What kind of H2O
Would make him swerve and totter?
 
If these days PETER put his wife
In a pumpkin shell,
He'd never hear the end of it;
Boy, she’d give him hell!

- by Bob B

The man who can't read came to visit today,
he sung along to each song that the radio played.
The track marks and scabs wove a story of bother;
of a life cut off short, my uncle, his father.

The man who can't read can fix anything:
a gasket, a hinge, a lever, a spring.
He pedals his bike and sweats up a storm,
no lights, no water, just part of his norm.

The man who can't read used to play in the yard;
we'd catch crickets under bricks, and skin knees til they scarred.
Garter snakes hid under the walnut tree
and we'd catch one in each hand and grandma would flee.

The man who can't read has been told that he's dumb,
that he smells like an ashtray and looks like a ***.
He still owns a picture of when we were young,
when we lived in the house where the picture was hung.

By: David W. Clare

She phoned me up: as she lied: straight to my face!

Phoney baloney, rang through my swollen head, she's unfit for the human race...

Begged me to bring her a pint of ice cream; I fell back asleep had a frozen dream...

Then, my car alarm blew a gasket
Those **** wild hoodlums are at it again?

I fell down in the street chasing after a cheap bottle of ***** to sooth my broken down blues... her breathe sounded real bad!

I acquiesced, then wanted to see her naked in bed undressed... I was depressed at the thought, she looked hot until I threw back the blanket...

I knew I was being used as her chisel... skanky cheap broad!

I took a taxi to her uptown flat, what a ******: room 17, next to that old gas station that got robbed last summer...

I was so **** drunk, I rolled up the stairs and her shoes fell on my feet!

Then I knew there was no hope, I lay there like the drunken *******!


(C) In perpetuity all rights reserved
(P) FilmNoirWorks

Mirror mirror on the wall
Who told the biggest lies of all


A tisket a tasket
He just flipped a gasket


Red Rover Red Rover
Let warheads come over


One, two skip to my Lou
Three, four, you’ll start a war
Five, six, you’re in a fix
Skip to my Lou, my darling.
Seven, eight, it’s just too late
Nine, ten, you'll never win
Skip to my Lou, my darling.


Here we go Lupti Lou
Here we go Lupti Lie
Here we go Lupti Lou
Why don’t you lay down and die


Ring around the Rosey
A pocket full of posers
Bashes, Crashes
The World falls down


Mary, Scary, quite contrary
How does your evil grow
With fire drill bells and armored shells
And dead bodies all in a row.
ljm

You can say that I'm a little out of touch
I fell down but I can't climb back up
None of my friends give a ****
I guess I'm **** out of luck.

If I'm not feeling blue I dont feel much
I know they'll tell me to **** it up
Moving on is just hard as ****
I'm tired of being down on my luck.

Its like holding in the clutch
I press the gas but just rev up
Going nowhere fast my motor is ******
I blew a gasket, yeah just my luck.

I hope I won't always need a crutch
I need motivation to just wake up
Get me a drink until I don't give a ****
I guess I've been making my own bad luck.

Walking in a creepy dark forest
feeling but nothing but weirdly sorest
Visions and reality totally hazy and confused
seeing teddy's drink tea without being excused

Seeing animals sit around and eat as humans at the table
Makes my mind feel more confused and unstable
Wondering around and come across owls getting married
judging what I'll see next I should be extremely worried!

I see a bright light reflecting white off a jacket
trying it on hoping this sure doesn't throw a gasket
Running away from the foolish foul bird creatures chasing me
My boots come off and out of nowhere I'm growing into a tree

My hands turn into branches and my feet into a tree trunk
surely this must be a dream or else I'm seriously drunk

when presidents blow a gasket
the world goes to hell in a basket

Sending my kid down that hallway
clad only in his underpants and socks
wasn’t the hardest thing I’ve ever done
as a parent, but it was close.
He looked so small
as he walked away from us.
He was staring down at the IPad
and I was glad for the distraction it brought.
He walked willingly, if not a little blindly into the unknown.
The O.R. nurses led the way, chattering away to selective ears which
listened primarily to the beeps and boops of “Plants Vs. Zombies”
or some such nonsense.
We kissed his forehead and said we’d see him soon.
He muttered a goodbye and swiped his finger left to right
setting a trap for the next digital enemy.
We waited in a very comfortable, yet uncomfortable room;
with strangers and their concerns and cares thickening the oxygen
I was trying to breathe.
There was coffee and doughnuts, cereal and milk.
We ate breakfast on Styrofoam plates and out of paper cups;
we waited.
When it was done we were told how it all played out.
The surgeon spoke of it in the same way my mechanic
talks about replacing a head gasket,
only with about 1000% more confidence;
like it was literally no big deal at all.

WORDS OF A DYING POET_ Membis Godwin

I have traveled to all edges
I know the worlds entrance and exit
Where seas flow from and to
The real colour of the Ancient Rainbow

I hear the words of all creatures
And knows when a flower smiles
My black hairs have grown bard
It have with wisdom been painted

But, now am dying gently
My rear knowledge shutting calmly
All I've acquired will recieve shelter
By gasket,decay and grow a diamond flower

I wish I could be buried naked
My flesh aside my knowledge

"I'm Mr bright side
Glass is half full.
But my tank is half empty
Gasket just blew."

Could have been moses in a basket
But it was a tiny syrian refugee who found no recipie washed apon the shore put in a casket with the hope he bore
No one blew a gasket
As they shunned them at bay
No justice for us
Who have no choice but to participate in the childish games mad men play
Kids in factories make toy guns for your sons so they'll grow up to fight a war for greedy men who will always want more
And we wave the red, white, and blue.
Don't tread on me. These colors dont run, they're tried and true. These colors don't run, they don't blend, the blood of the native American ran red, when the white pilgrim came, and then they took people with darker skin took them brought them from where they called home, skinned them of freedom and beat them black and blue never leaving them alone. These colors don't run. They bleed they're stained. Lady liberty greets all with her feet still chained, anchored by distain for her light does not put the night to shame, for the darkness is to great for the history and fate of the hate that our country creates but we remain indignant that the immigrants will destroy the reminants of the american dream. Wake up, things are not all as they seem, we're complacent within our placement at the top of the hierarchy but really we are at the bottom of a very complex conglomeration of an oligarchy
There is no way to rationalize with those who disguise corporate fascism as democracy. The hypocrisy and the lies.
Everything we do is for them to capitalize on
We are but used as simple pon.
But I hope a revolution might bring a new dawn.
We must unite to agree not to fight
To not let unruly hate and greed surpass love and need.
Then only then do I truly believe will we all be freed at last.



cronies spit on meritocracy
hucksters love the aristocracy
and grifters don't care
so long as things go their way
another check, another day
if you got them greenbacks
you get a say
otherwise, zip your lips
and walk away

I have an unusual best friend

he’s my cat Ronnie

he is very smart for a cat

and he is incredibly funny

He has a way of telling me

when I’m being a total *****

like dumping water from his dish all over the floor

it just makes me blow a gasket

I love the way he lays on my neck

so his purring puts me to sleep

I love how he sits in the shower with me

he always looks so sweet

I love how he puts his nose on mine

as I’m trying to write a poem

and I love how he meows like crazy

whenever I come home

Ronnie is my best friend

he will sit with me for hours if I’m crying on the bathroom floor

He doesn’t beg for my food when I’m eating

and he can never leave me alone

He watches me as I do dishes

as if he’s watching something fascinating

he likes watching my coffee *** brew coffee

because of the sound it makes and everything

Ronnie and I have a bond

I have never had with another pet

I fell in love with him before he could open his eyes

and he was my cat when I didn’t have him yet

He is the one friend I can count on

I know he will never break my heart

I love my kitty cat Ronnie

he’s my reason to keep from falling apart

When day is empty and
Time is free
With blazing sun
On boundless scenery
With fields of grain
'Twix forest green
Is where I find my poetry

I do not need
To run the gauntlet
Take arduous trips
To attain the summit
For the mountains soar
Upon my words
As beautiful islands
In seas of whey

Take all you need
Because you have it
Inside you're beautiful
Sentient gasket
Propel your senses
So you may match
My thoughts alike
Our travel boundless
Into the night

Come with me
Then breath awhile
This blissful silence
No-one around
Except our depiction
Our souls entwined
That blissful moment
Amidst the sound
Of dreaming

When the world implodes and the nights fill with screams,
she drapes a hand over my shoulder
opens up my mind, takes a blind plunge into my dreams...

Inside the main room of my soul
lies a whimpering naked child trapped in a cage,
silently crying as its terror pools around in one big sick tide -
the animal within it rips and gnaws
seeking a hole where it can curl up and hide.

My girl ignores this creature, following the signs
to my heart, and far away from my head;
away from a festering tumour swollen with pulsing nightmares,
leaking life and soon to be dead.

For there's a fire among the horizon
that's pushing her naked body closer to mine -
in the dark, cold, November nights
our love - oh it did burn and shine!

Alas then she was gone, and I was depressed
nondescript, useless, a piece of junk to her fleeting fancies -
that night she left...
I blew my gasket and she lost all her chances.

So I ignored her when she crawled back and cried,
'twas only two weeks but I was over her

now she's much less picturesque without me by her side.

I have had a little problem for the last four days or so,
of when I go into the toilet I just can't seem to go.

I get myself all seated just as comfortable as I can,
try to make quite certain I am centred on the pan.

I wait for things to happen but nothing seems to start,
no motions seem to occur not even some hint that I might ****.

I decide to try and push it and build pressure by holding breath,
but all that seems to do is put me close to suffocated death.

I grunt and squeak and gasp until an ear popped gasket blows,
all I end up doing is going red and blowing bubbles with my nose.

I tried a change of diet and drank gallon upon gallon of fruit juice,
but still there seems no evidence that anything is coming loose.

I have tried a change of position with my knees against my chin,
but I found it really awkward and ended up falling in.

My belly has gotten very large and feels as tight as a drum,
so much so I contemplate if you can use a crowbar on your ***.

I am sure outside the toilet they are hearing more than mere moans,
Looks I get quite often suggests surprise I've still got any bones.

I know that sometime eventually this thing will have to pass,
I just hope that when it does I can still use paper on my **.

It is a crawling
a snake of emotional creeping
an ache of mishaps
pushing up, seeking an opening
a release of pressure
a leaking gasket of **** ups
a painful agony of woes
it is zap of intestinal torment
it is numb lips
a haunting light
all of it leading and glowing into the
being
the being I keep avoiding.
the feeling I keep translating into metaphors
and unoriginal analogies
I keep trying to define it
like I can touch any of this
thought bubbles float above us
To think I could grasp any of it
I reach anyways
Separating immediately when I'm clutching air
holding hands with an empty ancient lover
I disassociate from pain
trying to beat her at her own game
I try and cut off limbs that steal from
my bliss
but they remain phantom
floating around and mocking
all that is left of me.

ice came down
mixed with rain
streaked windows
on this april spring day

thunderclap
struck the sky
bolted across
blanket white deck slick
greased up the skillet
stir up some eggs
fried, plated

bangs, knicks, scrapes
pushes on curb-top
pours into driveway
rips mailboxes from posts
in muck

like drums
rat-a-tat rat-a-tat
down it spills
beating on housetops, hose-water
streets

neighbors drive on
wash-out roads
a few speed through
riper to pass slow

folks losing electricity
trees fallen 'round
hibernating, little, town

colorless sounds clog up headset
on a mismatch sort of day

out-of-place ride-out
gasket blown