Black Breath

A dismal world, and every path is steep
as Meriadoc plods back into town
but he's sworn oaths that he intends to keep

they'll get back up when Hobbits get knocked down.

The lady Eowyn stood not alone
the morgul lord was fool to overlook
her ally with a sharp sword all his own
be he a Brandybuck, or doughty Took.

When Fangorn Wood has marched on Isengard
The undead Angmar king confronts his death

'though Tolkien points no footnote toward the Bard
the reader calls to mind scenes of 'Macbeth'.

Old oaths his father's fathers swore before
king Theoden fulfilled for Denethor.

Of Arms, and the Man

An Age before, a smith of Numenor
forged weapons to defy the Angmar king.
The writhen sword that Meriadoc bore
was fated for the battle of the Ring.
The lady Eowyn brought her own blade
unsuited to her brother's combat form.
No tales survive that tell where it was made
nor whether distaff combat was the norm.
The morgul-lord prefered to wield a mace
a brutish club of which he'd grown quite fond,
in tribute to another Age and place
when Morgoth swung the hammer known as "Grond".
Black powder makes its MiddleEarth debut,
but Tolkien's not enamored of what's new

Field of Pelennor

"Death!" roared his riders    Eomer led them
spotting his sister               flung on the fallen
king in his noon-years        eager for killing
Rohan's anointed               at the sun's rising

Theoden's fallen                gone to his Fathers Eorl's wunderkind             worthy of honor Slew the Black Serpent     Sauron's surrogate midwinter minstrels         shine his memory shattered by Snowmane    bane of his master When he's embarrowed     women will mourn him Last of his bloodline         crown must pass sideways Son of his sister                starts a new mounds-row Eowyn's brother                eclipsed in battle Theoden's fallen               gone to his Fathers Dropping his home-guard  rode to save Mundburg Bright flairs the sunset     Third Age is ending

dinosaurs

Fat lazy Democrats prefer to scold
the Independents that outnumber them.
As if their franchise could be bought, and sold
and thinking freely's something to condemn.
Despite the promises last time around,
closed primaries again in fourteen states
keep Independents out, and turn-out down
for those who'd disagree with Saban's slate.
NewDemocrats congeal at Biden's back
like gravy clinging to leftover roast.
No room for vision on the inside track.
The party doesn't understand; it's toast.
Young voters have no use for Bill's machine
they'll only vote for candidates who're clean.

Smiling Joe

Joe Biden thinks this contest's done and signed
his handlers coach him: "smile, and go along!
'Though Sanders growls, you mustn't pay him mind"
few voters really know which one is wrong.
Liz Warren's dropped; she couldn't stay the course
so claim  her issues now are all your own!
It's critical you get her to endorse;
Trump's NoiseMachine's too big to fight alone.
Conflating poverty with being Black
expecting Democrats do as they're told
oblivious to what his campaign lacks
the only voters he persuades are old.
Liz Warren found scant traction for her plan
the party bosses want an old, White man.

frontman

Jim Clyburn wants Joe Biden to be crowned.

Upcoming primaries can just be tossed!

What's flown so high is likely coming down;

momentum's what he's got, and could be lost.

Joe's pious, patriotic, and held dear

by millions who just want Obama back--

who rally against Trumpty out of fear--

and close their minds to what their guy may lack.

Refusing to defend the votes  he's cast,

claims for his own Obama's legacy.

Joe asks us to ignore his checkered past;
a candidate who can't stand scrutiny.

'Though Biden's fans pretend their boy's on fire,

nostalgia's not a platform to inspire.

torech ungol

No elvish warrior with ax and bow had taken Cirith Ungol on the sly. But Sam with Sting's no negligible foe, he'd come to win the war, not just to spy. An Ancient Horror in it for herself wreaked not of loyal Samwise pumped with rage. No Numenorean, not mage, nor elf out-fought this Hobbit in the world's Third Age. One glimpse of Anduril made old scars ache and Sauron leapt to crush Isildur's heir. Two hobbits didn't need another break to reach the Sammath Naur with no one there. Wise fool! To leave two Hobbits any room to infiltrate right to the Crack of Doom.

cult of personality

Smug Dunning-Kruger poster-child writ big,
Trump sneers contempt at what he doesn't grasp.
Idolators adore their gilded pig;
their tongues wash worshipfully his pink ass.
No law's so sacred he won't violate
no sin's so heinous he would not commit.
Convinced his endless flatulence smells great,
Behind their ears, they daub his latest shit.
Americans botched these experiments
demonstrably unfitted to self-rule.
A party that could lose to Trump and Pence
is crewed and helmed by  imbeciles and fools.
Our Founding Fathers spinning in their graves
must pray for Bernie pulling out a 'save'.

Lessig's nightmare

Mike Bloomberg's out; Joe biden's not dead yet;
The banker's money's on the taller horse.
Another billionaire he won't forget
Joe's got the back of any who'll endorse.
Four decades, he's been voting on our bills
but won't defend the policies he's backed.
Uninterested in the People's will,
he runs on personality, not facts.
Joe's Delaware's a corporation's dream;
these 'persons' sin with broad impunity.
And they've been quick to help him in this scheme
Election-time, there's reciprocity.
The billion-dollar ante to campaign

has dragged our "fair" republic down the drain.

echoes

"Turn, Hellhound!" Dernhelm snarled. The Morgul-king
 can't know his lease on MiddleEarth's been torn.
The undead servant of the Ruling Ring
was helpless to no man of woman born.
Already, Birnham Wood's marched up the Coomb
and much that looked like wisdom's proven daft.
Before his Mordor-Lord, he'll meet a doom
he never dreamt for all his dwimmercraft.
professor Tolkien seemed dissatisfied
with Shakespeare's climax to the Scottish play.
The oracle need not have baldly lied
but women feel excluded from the fray.
Amid the carnage smoulders a romance
the lady Eowyn rocks chainmail pants.

Spring

First full moon after vernal equinox
 a spear-take is declared by Theoden.
No longer penned by Grima in his box
He means to lead the van before his men.
Deliverance from fear is worth the chance
that one might die in battle, or at Sea
old age, nor squalid flu, nor happenstance
will claim Eorl's proud heir while he can see.
The orcs of Mordor part like standing waves
as Rohan thunders gleaming 'cross the field
And Snowmane dooms whom well-knit Dernhelm saves
A king whose false senescence has been healed.
Strange Pesach in the fields of Pellenor
an Age of Peace can only sprout from war.