threats

Security in Paris has been tight;
Gendarmes patrol the land, and sea, and air.
(Try Brussels if you must rebook that flight)
But coliform bacteria don't care.
Pasteur had cured disease in sheep, and men
Confronting anthrax on a chemist's terms
But someone upstream's shitting in the Seine;
The strongest athlete's not immune to germs.
The sewers Victor Hugo sketched so well
can't interdict what dribbles  in upstream.
Macron endures this very public Hell
as strangers soil his grand Olympic dream.
The spectacle was memorable, but...
we can't forget invaders of the gut.

transactional

Contagion's broadcast on his every breath
but nothing comes between Trump and his crowd.
He pays the few who're not afraid of Death
a bonus if they're energized and loud.
Aspiring actors eager for a role
inflate the rallies Trumpty's ego needs.
Each paycheck costs another piece of soul
and--this year--bears the risk of lung disease.
The dexamethasone that made him bloat
has disinhibited the lying jerk.
He raids the Treasury to buy a vote;
he's facing prison if this doesn't work.
Thought processes beneath that orange rug
are even stranger on this steroid drug.

polypharmacy

Before the Lasix masked his swollen throat,
Trump's let us glimpse his Orange totem toad.
The dexamethasone that made him bloat
did nothing to reduce his viral load.
Like Typhoid Mary's famous peach ice cream,
his rallies pump contagion through the crowd.
Without a mask, they're in your face to scream;
it's weirdly intimate, and way too loud.

The cure he's touting doesn't yet exist; 

he's selling snake-oil to the credulous.

In character, he doesn't give a shit

what outcome may befall the rest of us.

The clown who boasts he'll never touch a drink

is running on more drugs than you may think.

 

'roid rage

Don Jr. thinks his father sounds insane
but hesitates to call him out, alone.
Ivanka'd been the one to hold the reins.
"The lights are on, but ain't nobody home".
On dexamethasone, Trump's feeling great!
Although he struggled with a flight of stairs
With cameras rolling, he'll prevaricate.
Fact-checks come later, and nobody cares.
His housestaff are replaceable, I guess.
He signals clearly what's not said aloud.
Aerosolizing his infectious mess,
like Mussolini playing to the crowd.
A madman's seized the helm of Ship of State.

November's referendum comes too late.

quorum

McConnell needs a quorum to confirm
a Justice to Ruth Ginsburg's still-warm seat.
A month from now begins his lameduck term
if Democrats can compass his defeat.

A three-seat margin can evaporate
already, two have told us they'll abstain.
As Trump keeps trying to inoculate
more senators, that edge swirls down the drain.
Each day, another minion calls in sick
this virus doesn't care that they're so rich.
Self-quarantine means he can't turn this trick;
the numbers don't look good for Putin's bitch.
Trump's tantrums, petulence, and childish wrath
mean nothing to the epidemic math.

antiscorbutic

In riotous profusion by the trail,
their weight bears skinny branches down to earth.
In Huckleberry season, bring a pail!
Those jams are worth your life in months of dearth.
Diseases that bedeviled us through time,
attributed to deities enraged,
until the Royal Navy found the lime,
few sailors lived  to reach robust old age.
Exacerbating all, they kept pet cats
to guard their precious biscuits while at sea.
In ignorance that--unlike Man--those rats
can synthesize their own vitamin 'C'.
The summer hillside flush with fleeting wealth
Can cannily be canned for lasting health.

who's responsible?

At thirty-seven, Cheney should have died;

 that heart-attack was dealt to lay him low.
Blasphemous cardiologists defied
God's will, as if it's they declare what's so.
Since then, the consequences have been dire,
each sign from Heaven answered with more war.
unChristian nation marching towards the Fire,
Has long forgotten what we're founded for.
If masks express unfaith in the Divine,
Dick Cheney should slake Krakatoa's thirst!
America's not going to be fine,
If we go on electing the plumb worst.
The "logic" of the faux religious Fringe
Must make the thinking few rebel and cringe.

Control Group

This border's battened; Swedes need not apply.
The Danes have purged their pastures of that pox
While Sweden toils to bury all who've died,
their ferries are unwelcome at Danes' docks.
Aggressive testing keeps 'R' values low;
asymptomatic carriers get caught.
Most nordic countries leapt to make it so.
But Swedes delayed in doing what they ought.
In Summer, Copenhagen basks in sun
long after everybody's done with work.
but Swedes find they're excluded from the fun;
the jobs that had been theirs, now go to Turks.
Experimental public policy
sets Sweden far apart--and lost at sea.

Kool-Aid

Trump's quick to disbelieve the kind of docs
who warn that chloroquine could lay him low.
He's deaf to warnings of cardiotox,
because his gut assures him it's not so.
An expert who'd dissent just won't get hired;
this boss wants affirmation, no new thoughts.
The few who dared to think were quickly fired;
Trump's got no use for those who can't be bought.
His mindless minions look to him as guide
they wouldn't think to question Trumpty's will.
This cult's too big for anyone to hide
they're queuing maskless to obtain this pill.
Trump arbitrates what is and isn't true.
Darwinian selection's voting Blue.

omens

Our future sports a cyanotic hue
as Covid strikes another thousand dead.
November's wave's far off, but it's deep Blue
No State--except Wyoming's--"safely Red".

McConnell wreaks such mischief as he can,

confirming lifetime judges to the court.
Yet doom's impending for the Turtle-man;
his Yertle-tower's tall, but time grows short.
Such crises come with opportunity;
change isn't probable when life is swell.
Inertia serves the Few with property
until Society has gone to Hell.
Joe's way too fond of bankers for my taste
this crisis is a dreadful thing--to waste.

ominous

Our future sports a cyanotic hue
as Covid strikes another thousand dead.
November's wave's far off, but it's deep Blue
No State--except Wyoming's--"safely Red".

McConnell wreaks such mischief as he can,

confirming lifetime judges to the court.
But doom's impending for the Turtle-man;
his Yertle-tower's tall, but time grows short.
Still, Joe's at idle, like this race were won
the heir apparent lacks "the vision thing".
Campaigning on what someone else had done
he trusts a running-mate will bring the zing.
Obama points to CHANGE we need to do,
while Biden trots out tokens, two by two.

compartments

The IgG that BCG evokes, Protects from miliary-type TB. Americans won't line up for more pokes that can't defend lung-surface from disease. Mucosa are patrolled by IgA Which won't provoke a storm of cytokines. Vaccines one'd aerosolize and inhale Might be the weapons that could hold that line. The race is on against this novel plague it's possible no sera will avail. Projections at this research stage are vague; perhaps not every one of them need fail. This pathogen will go on kicking ass until we mount the right globulin class.

pestilence

Troop movements spread contagion far, and wide
No corner of the globe was shared the flu.
It's still contentious quite how many died;
we're sure that it killed more than WWII.
This new pandemic's not a tenth as dire
although it too's contagious on the breath.
At this remove from warfare's blood and mire,
we've grown less tolerant of so much death.
Columbus brought the New World more than guns
his influenza torched a world naive.
A revolution so naively done
wreaked devastation monstrous to believe.
Grim price, to purge the White House of this clown;
world's trend towards longer life turned sharply down.

heel!

As long as Trumpty-Dumpty goes unveiled
Pence day-by-day's obliged to weigh the costs.
A VP's job-load's light, but he'd have failed
were he to seem unfaithful to the boss.
The Mayo Clinic specified a mask
for anyone to who was to come on-site.
But Mikey failed at even such a task;
Trump's proud the clowns he hires are none too bright.
Still, Mike heels dog-like, orbiting Trump's mass
Like Hillary adhering to her Bill.
His lips seem stapled to the orange ass
as if he has no independent will.
Trump's team's insouciant of the Public Health;
their full attention's fixed on their own wealth.

the State of Nature

Obama dug us out of 'Cheney's Slump'
but still was subject to the Right's attacks.
That fringe embrace the moron Donald Trump
who can't forgive the sin of being Black.
Discounting wisdom coming from a face
that doesn't need vacation to look tan,
Trump's cultists' politics revolve on race;
they disregard the merits of the man.
"The government's the problem" Reagan crowed
and maybe he believed the words he spoke.
At least that's what the teleprompter showed
and no one told the geezer that's a joke.
Leviathan can spare us Nature's ills
it's Trumpty-Dumpty's insouciance that kills.

Fourth Turning

The blare of Trump/Pence heralds End of Days
although it's been corrupted in most texts.
The Second Horsemen slays us with a plague;
The Wise among us shudder at what's next.
Apocalyptic fires devastate Oz,
as Bangladesh subsides beneath the waves.
Still Trumpty Dumpty doubts the human cause
and soon, there won't be bodies left to save.
Pat Robertson swears God is in control
and sends disease to guide us on His way,
chastising bodies to refine the soul,
and when that fails, he'll blame it on the Gays.
Steve Bannon's all alone to find it "good"
we didn't prep for this one, 'though we could.

Tragedy

Apollo's wroth; this ersatz Golden Boy
shuns cosmetologists who might imbue
his face with colors living folks enjoy
His plague's upon us; victims turn dark blue.
Athena holds no sway in D.C. town
no expertise can get a maven heard
malignant sycophants advise this clown
what's called "policy" here is just absurd.
While Hera smirks; her husband's such a dolt
ur-narcissist who thinks himself a god
so self-impressed with his big thunderbolt
expecting worlds to tremble at his nod.
Liz Warren comes with plans, but Trump's still vague
on what he'll do to mitigate this plague.

...and there was famine in the Land...

Across America, we feel the dearth
bread-flour's gone and yeast is hard to buy.
A lover who can bake's of sterling worth!
And even those who can't, feel moved to try.
The staff of life our fathers' fathers ate
seems suddenly uncertain here and now
the gliaden I've trained to aggregate
has no good substitute, preparing chow.
But still, the farmers sow, and reapers reap
and grain that's once been ground's on hand somewhere
especially the white stuff's meant to keep
it's only oils that spoil exposed to air.
Accustomed to force-feeding like we're geese.
Strange famine, in the Land of the Obese.

immured

The walls close in; we're forced to isolate
a new corona virus stalks the stage.
Until we find the means to vaccinate
we're forced to find amusement in our cage.
Without museums, restaurants and bars
we fax, and teleconference, and text
but hooking up  in cyberspace is hard;
without the face-to-face, we're starved for sex.
Trump didn't think we ought to mobilize;
the threat he feared was to the price of stocks.
But even those who want to trust his lies
are losing family to this new pox.
'Though Dickenson might not have deemed it bad,
such isolation's driving most folks mad.

rudderless

Steve Bannon buffs Trump's ego with his lips
because he knows contagion's spread by hands
so certain we need the Apocalypse
he roots for this pandemic to expand.
"Fourth Turning" in his mind cannot be ducked
no other pathway forward could suffice
'though billions of our brothers would be fucked
Steve figure's he'll survive, so it's all nice.
Rasputin to a pewling Tsarevich
he knows how to make Trumpty-Dump react
ignoring anyone who isn't rich
Don still eats propaganda up like facts.
Reactive, where we need someone to lead
Trump furnishes the bed where Nazis breed.