The Twelve Days of Christmas: Donald Trump Edition

On the first day of Christmas, Bob Mueller gave to me,
An Impeachment in a Pear Tree!
On the second day of Christmas, Bob Mueller gave to me,
Two Russian dossiers, and an Impeachment in a Pear Tree!
On the third day of Christmas, Bob Mueller gave to me,
Three prostitutes peeing, two Russian dossiers,
And an Impeachment in a Pear Tree!
On the fourth day of Christmas, Bob Mueller gave to me.
Four Conways conning, three prostitutes peeing, two Russian dossiers,
And an Impeachment in a pear tree!
On the fifth day of Christmas, Bob Mueller gave to me,
FIVE FEDERAL INDICTMENTS!
Four Conways conning, three prostitutes peeing, two Russian dossiers,
And an Impeachment in a Pear Tree!
On the sixth day of Christmas, Bob Mueller gave to me,
Six geezers spilling, FIVE FEDERAL INDICTMENTS!
Four Conways conning, three prostitutes peeing, two Russian dossiers,
And an Impeachment in a Pear Tree.
On the seventh day of Christmas, Bob Mueller gave to me,
Seven sexual harrassments, six geezers spilling,
FIVE FEDERAL INDICTMENTS!
Four Conways conning, three prostitutes peeing, two Russian dossiers,
And an Impeachment in a Pear Tree!
On the eighth day of Christmas, Bob Mueller gave to me,
Eight Flynns a flipping, seven secual harrassments, six geezers spilling,
FIVE FEDERAL INDICTMENTS!
Four Conways conning, three prostitutes peeing, two Russian dossiers,
And an Impeachment in a Pear Tree!
On the ninth day of Christmas, Bob Mueller gave to me,
Nine hundred rounds of golf, eight Flynns a flipping,
Seven sexual harrassments, six geezers spilling,
FIVE FEDERAL INDICTMENTS!!
Four Conways conning, three prostitutes peeing, two Russian dossiers,
And an Impeachment in a Pear Tree!
On the tenth day of Christmas, Bob Mueller gave to me,
Ten money launderers laundering, nine hundred rounds of golf, eight Flynns a flipping,
Seven sexual harrassments, six geezers spilling,
FIVE FEDERAL INDICTMENTS!
Four Conways conning, three prostitutes peeing, two Russian dossiers,
And an Impeachment in a Pear Tree!
On the eleventh day of Christmas, Bob Mueller gave to me,
Eleven liars lying, ten money launderers laundering, nine hundred rounds of golf, eight Flynns a flipping, seven sexual harrassments, six geezers spilling,
FIVE FEDERAL INDICTMENTS!
Four Conways conning, three prostitutes peeing, two Russian dossiers,
And an Impeachment in a Pear Tree
On the twelfth day of Christmas, Bob Mueller gave to me,
Twelve million tweets, eleven liars lying, ten money launderers laundering,
Nine hundred rounds of golf, eight Flynns a flipping, seven sexual harrassments,
Six geezers spilling,
FIVE FEDERAL INDICTMENTS!
Four Conways conning, three prostitutes peeing, two Russian dossiers,
And an Impeachment in a Pear Tree!

The Flashlight of Wisdom

I’m the anomaly in the class.
That older student,
Who has been down the path before,
And is back for another go.
Twenty years have passed since I used to be them.
And I feel it more keenly than ever before.

All the the mistakes I’ve made,
The pleasure and pain, and triumph and defeat.
The joy and despair I’ve felt.
The things I’ve done.
And learned.

And learned…

I’m not necessarily smarter than they are.
I’ve just been around a lot longer.
I guess this is what you call wisdom.
Am I wise?
I don’t know.

I feel both envy and apprehension,
About all the experiences,
That will shape and harden,
And break and reform them.
There’s so much I want to tell them!
But I know it won’t help that much.

I can give them a flashlight,
But it won’t illuminate the whole path.
They’ll have to stumble their own way through,
Just like I did.

Basic Math

I suppose death is the final answer,
To the basic math that is aging.
But one lesson we are all taught,
Is Show Your Work.
How did you get there?
What was the process?
For age is not merely a solitary number,
On an otherwise blank page.
It’s the accumulation of life.
A gathering of knowledge and experiences.
One cannot move on to the next lesson,
Until one fully understands the previous one.
But most of us do not learn,
And thus we are unprepared.
We haven’t learned this formula,
But we try to move on anyway.
New knowledge is acquired,
But old lessons are not learned.
Mistakes are carried forward,
And forward.
And forward.
Until we finally realize,
Those mistakes,
All the pain and frustration they cause,
Are actually the most important part of the lesson.

How art thou crazy? Let me count the ways…

Of a picnic, thou art short of sandwiches, thus.
And in thy belfry resideth many bats.
Thy engine runneth, but hath no one behind the wheel.
Thou art a man of many cases; of head, and basket, and nut.
And verily misplaced by thee hath been thy marbles.
How lost thou art in space.
How lost is thy plot.
Away with the faerie folk thou hast flown.
In a canoe, thou art, but sadly missing the essential oars.
Thy faithful rocking chair hath deposited thee thus on the floor.
A cage of many pads is the place for thee,
Since thou believeth thyself to be a tweeting bird:
The Great Orange Crested Trump Tit.

Concerning the Care and Maintenance of the Trump

It’s ego needs constant inflation,
Adoration and validation.
And it requires a weekly vacation,
From the pressures of running the nation.
Send it off to a rally or golf course,
Let it scream at its base till it’s hoarse.
Reassure, re-emphasize, reinforce,
Of all greatness, it’s the only source.
Give it lots of diet coke, and fast food.
Make sure it’s always in a good mood.
Don’t make it read things; that’s just rude.
Deviate from these rules, and you’re screwed.

June Gloom

It’s June,
So one would assume,
The weather would be pleasant,
And warmer still than clement May.
But then Ms. Gloom comes to stay.
Always with her clouds and rain,
And you sigh and mutter, not again.
No point in moaning or in asking why.
Just wait inside the house till warm July.

Pray on, Everyone.

Pray on, everyone.
As they prey on everyone.
Ask God to make it all okay,
While they’re ripping their own flesh away.
Because God had told them what to do.
The very same God you’re praying to,
To ask for comfort and help from Him.
Should He listen to you or to them?

Welcome To The Apocalypse

 

There’s them that make news
Them that make fake news
Then there’s fake fake news
That’s called satire
Sometimes it’s hard to tell till you come down to the wire,
But it’s no longer true that where there’s smoke there’s fire,
Before you share or shout better hold your horses,
Time to teach our children in their classes and courses,
Check your sources! Check your sources!

Things are turning quickly now,
The show is underway,
How long it’s gonna last,
Well really none of us can say,
We came in with a big bang,
Will we go out that way,
Come get your free tickets,
For the coming Judgement Day,

Welcome to the Apocalypse,
Check out the disturbing view,
14 billion years at our fingertips,
Now we’re about to see things through,
One good thing with the Apocalypse,
I get to spend all the last days with you…..

You’re gonna see things you never thought you’d see,
Things are gonna be the way you never thought they’d be,
Don’t believe what you read, or see on tv,
In an Orwellian world, only the chained are free,

Welcome to the Apocalypse,
Check out the disturbing view,
14 billion years at our fingertips,
Now we’re about to see things through,
One good thing with the Apocalypse,
I get to spend all the last days with you…..

Heads are tales and the tables have been turned,
Can’t trust any of the things that you’ve learned,
To save this village, it’s got to be burned,
The die is cast, the courtroom is adjourned,

Welcome to the Apocalypse,
Check out the disturbing view,
14 billion years at our fingertips,
Now we’re about to see things through,
One good thing with the Apocalypse,
I get to spend all the last days with you,

One good thing with the Apocalypse,
I get to spend all the last days with you

CHECK YOUR SOURCES! 

There’s them that make news,

Them that make fake news,

Then there’s fake fake news,

But that’s called satire,

Sometimes it’s hard to tell,

Till it comes down to the wire,

It’s no longer true that

where there’s smoke there’s fire,

Before you share or shout,

You better hold your horses, 

Time to teach our children, 

In their classes and courses,

Check your sources!

Check your sources!

The Statue of Bigotry

Picture it now, the colossal statue that Trump is going to erect of himself, with an arm outstretched and a palm facing east, his other arm clutching an executive order that reads:

Get back, wretched refuse,
To your teeming shore.
You are not wanted anymore.
Go back, wretched refuse,
To your lives of fear.
You are no longer welcome here.
You wanted refuge, I suppose.
But now the Golden Door is closed.
I lift no lamp to guide you to my land.
I lift only my tiny little hand.