Know thyself

The heroism Trump claims for his own
in Florida, protecting innocent
school-children's nothing that he's ever shown
before, or in his time as president.
A guy who leaves his wife out in the rain
and shuns the guest who's bleeding on his floor
now claims he'd rush the perp like G.I. Jane
but swoons if anyone should mention gore.
He trusts that few perceive the void within
while selling them the candidate he ain't.
As shallow as his orange-tinted skin
achieved by crushing Cheetohs into paint.
No self-reflection mars Trump's sleep at night;
he brings no competence, and less insight

pay not attention to the tan behind the curtain

The thatch befitting an orangutan
bizarrely grafted onto Donald's head
as artificial as the spray-can tan
morticians use to 'juvenate the dead
took flight as he embarked on AirForce One.
It wasn't engineered for such a test
a golfer's 'do, to amble, not to run
transforms to an abandoned raven's nest.
The bald-spot that he hides beneath that mop,
winks pinkly from a million TV screens
third buttock, brandished cockily  on top
what ought to be concealed within his jeans.
Potempkin coiffure, ginned up for the Press
pretends it's more, but all can see, it's less.

I try like Hell to hide that bald spot

A glimpse of candor, with that flash of pate
as Trump embarked on wind-swept AirForceOne
belies his fervent claim that his hair's great,
deflating pompadour so stiffly done.
The trademarked orange tonsure Bozo claimed
can be repurposed--for a license fee.
Orangutanish mop, by hairspray tamed,
that had been clownish, now's just parody.
A fragile ego, tied to thinning hair
and sycophants won't speak an honest word.
His Chief of Staff would have to grow a pair
to tell his boss that bouffant's so absurd.
A more secure man'd learn to wear a hat;
no sleight of comb can dignify this brat.

Ki Tissa

The "sound of battle" Joshua relates
is something like a carnival below.
The efforts building mishkan consecrates,
unchanneled, find another way to flow.
The bulls that gleamed in Jeroboam's cult
enticed some worshippers to skip the trek.
A staid decor, more fit for an adult,
sufficed to satisfy the Temple's spec.
Had Jeroboam known this piece of text,
he'd never have reprised this cultic crime.
Strange worship Torah utterly rejects,
is not the way to launch a rival shrine.
Whatever Aaron wrought on our behalf
in retrospect, must not have been a calf.

sow's ear

A presidency's arc in rhyming verse
sweet presentation, 'though the content's gall.
Obama's exit changed us for the worse;
Trump seems Hell-bent on our republic's fall.
The Checks and Balances our Framers wrought
collapse when Congress shirks its proper role;
when donors dictate to the pawns they've bought
It's dollars, not the People, in control.
Each week, his language skills degenerate;
where others focus, he spews verbal hash.
A manichean world, all "bad" or "great"
excludes all values neither "gold" nor "trash".
I might as well write sonnets to the moon;
Trump's deaf to what's not pitched in a cartoon.

collusion

Prigozhin's army bleeds in the Levant
'though Putin swears he has no ground troops there.
A mercenary force does what he can't
disposable pawns to the Russian bear.
The hunter's now the prey in Mueller's hunt
for calumnies, if not for bombs and gore,
and opening a third election front
to orchestrate the propaganda war.
The shadow-arm of KGB control
thrust deep in Internet communities
to cloak that he's a hostile foreign troll
must steal Americans' identities.
In Syria, or Akron, or Duluth,
the Kremlin's cook's at war with simple Truth.

Second time as farce II

His lawyer might seek Use-Immunity
to testify to what he'd helped Trump do.
Without the candor or acuity,
John Dean's reprised as Cohen's shyster Jew.

Like magic waters of the river Styx,
he'll immunize himself against reproach.
The echoes of Dick Nixon's DirtyTricks
that had been tragic, this time play as jokes.
The precedent is rarely quite precise,
the fair-haired boy now bears the mohel's mark.

Another roll of history's grim dice,
if this be farce, it's getting mighty dark.

Confronted with Trump's record of HighCrime,
we'll settle for mere Pence. And it's high time.

Second time as farce

Mike Cohen might take Use-Immunity
to testify to what he'd helped Trump do.
With neither candor nor acuity,
the "JohnDean" role's reprised by someone new.
Like magic waters of the river Styx,
he'll immunize himself against reproach.
The echoes of Dick Nixon's DirtyTricks
that had been tragic, this time play as jokes.
The precedent is rarely quite precise,
yet patterns of behavior do persist.
Another roll of history's grim dice,
Trump's "enemies" would overflow Dick's list.
Confronted with Trump's record of HighCrime,
we'll settle for mere Pence. And it's high time.

conspiracy of fools

Mike Cohen paid the bimbo to keep mum.
But now, she thinks it's time we knew the truth.
She's done pretending that she's blonde, and dumb;
conspiring with these pigs would be uncouth.
The lawyer claims the money was his own.
He laundered it; his client's hand's obscured.
A court must prove he didn't act alone;
no jury should accept him at his word.
The privilege to privately confer
with legal counsel, to construct a case
outrageously invoked here, to deter
the Special Counsel getting in his face.
A RICO suit increasingly makes sense
that starts with Flynn, but ends one step past Pence.

the fault is not in our stars

Orion stalks us from the Southern skies
no quarry can escape his sword, and bow
laid bare beneath the huntsman's twinkling eyes,
where there's no figleaf, and no wisp of snow.
High season, when we ought to be on skis
our storms are pounding Florida, and Maine.
The drought that's beating Capetown to its knees
has San Franciscans praying for more rain.
The Winter snows and rains that used to fill
our reservoirs to bridge the Summer dearth,
now flood one state, but give another nil
as we disrupt the cycles of our Earth.
The stars can't sigh; they know this plot too well.
It's how such species make their worlds a Hell.

puerile

Mike Pence sat as Olympic Games began
like Kaepernick protesting some grave wrong
symbolic speech belongs to everyman
and need not disrespect the flag, or song.
His outrage may be feigned, or deeply felt
but still Mike's rightly deemed a hypocrite
White Privilege marks every card he's dealt
while others always play a hand of shit.
As petulant as Trump, but not as fat
he's more inclined to condescend, than boast.
as best he can, he'll channel the big brat
by boorishly insulting his own host.
This peevish pair's our nation's crying shames
as blind as Scrooge to Spirit of the Games.

freak

One triploid crayfish somehow became more,
each generation merging with the next.
Six strands of DNA--not two, or four--
encodes proliferation without sex.
Ballooning populations rarely last
a monoculture's always prone to pop
there's more to dominance than breeding fast;
one virion could decimate the crop.
Darwinian selection's view is long;
it's not enough to multiply, and fight.
Today's hot strategy might turn out wrong;
it's only looking back we'll know what's right.
Parthenogenic rotifers get by,
but sexless arthropods seem poised to die.

glimmers

Fresh snow-melt churns and scours the turbid creek
and crocuses thrust leaves and flower-buds forth
this February thaw may prove a freak
rebirth seems imminent, here in the North.
While Florida, and Texas suffer snow,
our Winter's preternaturally mild
caressed by the warm, moist Southwestern flow,
the grumpiest is presently beguiled.
Tomorrow night may bring another frost,
the jetstream that had veered, perchance will back.
Untimely vernal blossoms may be lost
like sunset's colors winking into black.
Dark months before the skiers' final fling,
imagination grasps at straws of Spring.

Trump's pet

What price did Nunes get for his black soul,
when he signed on to Trump's transition team?
Tripartite government means shared control;
no branch can seize all reins to rule supreme.
His California district's unimpressed;
Trump's shown no int'rest in their almond crop.
If only for what he's by now confessed,
his Washington debacle's got to stop.
Our airbase in the Azores was the prize
that kept his ethnic voter-base entranced.
We'll see how great's their appetite for lies
when they learn just by whom they've been romanced.
This midterm's apt to sweep away his gang.
And then we'll see how many Trumpsters hang.