It's been a long time coming

Kadyrov reads the omens, and steps back;
he sees his patron headed for defeat.
'Though Putin's apoplectic to "Attack!",
his Chechens stand at ease(if not retreat).
Prigozhin struck too soon, and got rebuffed,
inviting Ramzan to throw off their chains.
But--maybe--Russians now have had enough;
Who might succeed is not for us to say.
with Khodorkovsky living in exile,
they're not retrying Gorbachev's "new way."
They're like to live with warlords, for a while,
this cycle, but just might, another day...
The empire Vladimir had hope would stand
as monument is crumbling with the man.

sycophants

Competitive mendacity's in vogue;
Trump's minions belt out paeans to their king.
Assuring an Executive gone rogue
his high opinion counts for everything.
Dystopic cityscape Curt Yarvin paints
is nowhere manifest down on the street.
He'll make up citizens, and their complaints
until his power-grab can be complete.
The People--past the beltway--ain't impressed,
sashaying past his brownshirts on a lark.
Assembling peaceably to seek redress
democracy lives on in People's Park.
Pathetic courtiers, pushing fictive "facts"
just hope they're not in line to get the ax.

bad faith

Trump cheats at golf; his cultists just don't care.
Integrity's a "weakness" in their books.
He tells them what to think, and what to wear,
and whom to listen to, and where to look.
The pizzeria basement child-sex ring
they'd swallowed at face-value on his word.
But Epstein, and the sordid child-rape thing
they shrilly sweep aside like it's absurd.
The clownish Orange face, and dumb red hat
denote--if you believe--that he's the Man.
You're called a traitor to observe he's fat
and stiffs contractors any time he can.
Deluded they're immune to his attacks
they fantasize that Trump will have their backs.

flip-flop

The war-chest Putin stocked by doubtful means/
looked like enough...until his blitzkrieg stalled.
But now, he's calling up cold-war machines,
and even Stalin might have been appalled,
at so much blood spent for so little gain.
Ukrainians prove quite as tough as Finns;
The paper tiger crumples in Ukraine.
Such wars are quick to lose, but not to win;
Trump's realized that Putin's cause is lost.
The empire of the Czars ain't coming back.
As long as Europeans bear the cost,
He won't restrain Ukrainians' attack.
Increasingly, the Kremlin sulks alone,
and darling Vanya's never coming home.

Games

Trump's noticed Putin plays him for a chump
and doesn't bother hiding his disdain
for such an abject sycophant as Trump.
Now, prospects look much better for Ukraine.
Such armaments as Europeans send
they'll make themselves; they'd be great fools to buy
American; we're not trustworthy friends.
Arms-Makers here will find they're high and dry.
A new World Order, shoving us aside
confronts an undead empire of the czars.
They aren't asking us who lives, or dies
We're not the global arbiter of wars.
A ballsy gambit, Putin played and lost
as usual, civilians bear the cost.

value-free

When Secretary Kegsbreath took the stand
he testified what is not classified.
The picture of what Trump loves in a man!
He faced the centers squarely, sneered, and lied.
The document he'd quoted was 'NOFORN'
a designation very few will bear
These clowns treat our security with scorn
and Trumpty doesn't understand, or care.
The culture that had keep our troops secure
since Washington traversed the Delaware
disintegrates when no one can be sure
the Brass are competent, or even care.
The sycophants selected by this clown
are tearing the whole federal state down.

Summer vision

The twilight etches cliffs in stark relief;
a foreground bonsai focuses the scene.
MDMA inclines me toward belief
that someone understands just what I mean.
The atmosphere is scattering the Blue
to stain the cloud-deck many shades of red.
A vignette shared in empathy with you,
and all the moly coursing through our heads.
If I could conjure such a scene in verse,
I wouldn't so despair that I can't draw.
But knowing that I can't, I feel accursed;
no other mind could know quite what I saw.
An isolated mind resents it's plight
preferring to insist we've shared this sight.