spotting satan’s smile…

flexing
the muscles
at
the sides
of
his mouth
he demonstrated
an
overt
display
of emotion
and
said
that’s perfectly delicious
how
the flavors
blend
into
one
perfectly harmonized
deadly
poison
of
hate
it’s quite surprising
how
just
the right touch
of
ignorance
when
blended
with personalized fears
and
self-interests
can result
in
a devil’s brew
with
an angelic fragrance
of
patriotism

hamlet revisited…

feeling
discouraged
i told
aunt bea
it’s been
a long week
seems like we”ve regressed
in opening
opportunities
for people
as
a nation
i have
marcellus’s  feeling
something is rotten in the state…
i feel
battle weary
aunt bea
said
i still recall
the day
your grandmother
my
mother
had you
and
your cousin
tommy
help
to prepare dinner
you two
had
to catch
kill
and
pluck a chicken
you couldn’t
kill
anything
so
tommy did
the honors
but
you
were given
the chore
of plucking the features
off the bird
requiring
periodic baths
in hot water
oh
the smell
lord
your face
could have sunk
a battle ship
but
you
completed
the task
just as we all shall now
despite
the smell

chromatic word syndrome…

i wonder sometimes
what is the color of words
that some can’t be heard
leaving lips with the same sounds
yet no audience is found

donald’s ducks or not me….

donald
the lump
is in a slump
knows not
what to do
so begins
to complain
looks
for someone else
to blame
for things
that he’s said
and
his empty bed
there’s always
mccain
but that’s
so lame
since
he’s a hero
and
you’re a zero
hey
why not
blame allah
and
all that lot
or
fabricate
another plot
so much
to choose
when you’re
pampered
and
unhampered
by
the truth

​ dining out in america now…

fried rabbit
and
possum stew
is all
the white house
gonna
offer
you
while they
dine
on corn-fed
beef
and
funny
little
fish eggs
from
russia
with love
now
don’t get
me wrong
as i
sing
my song
but
it
seems
to me
we’ve been
served
a wicca’s 
social brew

bogus bounty of dreams…

terrorized tattooed ladies
tiptoed through
donald’s dreams
dancing daintily
across his nose
shaking
baskets of pollen
as if
salting
the earth
so
nothing
more
could grow
and
seeking revenge
for
all
women
treated as
caveman possessions
possessions
to be dragged
to the bedroom
where
more often
than not
nothing developed
thus
he awoke
alone
in a cold
feverish sweat
bed wet
nothing left to do
but
tweet

liberty’s wildfire…

once the glow
from her lamp
offered
the warmth
of hope
for
freedom
and
sanctuary
from
the flames
of
religious persecution
but
now
it has
a garish glow