Saturday, August 22, 2020

AT THE BREAKFAST TABLE

Early one morning moments after a fresh pot of coffee has just been made.

ME: Wait a minute, and hold the phone, Nellie! Are you suggesting a politician would prevaricate? 


REALITY: Yes. But not just your run of the mill mendacious elected official.


No, in this case it's Trump, who will  falsify, belie, misrepresent; pervert, twist, distort, strain, warp, slant, color; gild, varnish, gloss, doctor, dress up, embellish, embroider, exaggerate, inflate, blow up, puff up, magnify, enlarge on, Inf. pile or lay it on, Inf. lay it on thick, carry too far; boast, brag, Inf. talk through one's hat. 


As well as mislead, deceive, lead up the garden path, throw off the scent, put [s.o.] on a false scent, drag or draw a red herring across the trail; misinform, give [s.o.] a bum steer, pull the wool over [s.o.'s] eyes. 


In addition, that charlatan will lie in his throat lie grossly or maliciously, slander, defame, libel, calumniate, traduce; perjure himself, swear falsely, bear false witness; lie through his  teeth, lie like a trooper, lie like a rug; speak with forked tongue, Inf. tell the big lie.


ME: That about covers it.


REALITY: Assume nothing.


(Karma wanders into the kitchen in his pajamas, yawning,  grabs an empty coffee cup and fills it.)


KARMA: You rang?

Sunday, August 16, 2020

Robomontade


Once upon a time

When things were likely

Very much then as they are now:


Balderdash and bluster,

Considered as front runners

For reindeer names,

Defined the idle swank

Who self-servingly claimed

The government stank.


And upon their hubristic

Election-messaging planks,

The wealthy and bored

Spewed rant after rant after rant.


Heavens to Betsy

Some observers cried.

You know, that Michigan twit

That bought her position

Because her prime mission

Was that of public school mortician.


She, of course, was not alone.


It was a time of boasting

Of flatulent bombast;

It's a gas, gas, gas.


A time of serenade.

Unbridled gasconade.

The big charade.


Over and over and over:

Goebbels gerbils

Copy and paste.


Repetition defines truth.

Who cares that if it lacks

Even basic facts?


So some of the people

Bowed and prayed

To the gaslit god they'd made.


What's good for the goose

Is jam for the maid.

What's allegedly true

Is actually shade.

No matter how they slice it

Those fools got played.


Robomontade.









Thursday, August 13, 2020

Wiseacres

 And there we were

Waiting outside the arcade.


Someone said the future

Hit pause, had been delayed.


Instead of taking action

Some just prayed.


Giving into bias

Those folks were played.


They stumbled into chaos

Instead of that promised crusade.


Meanwhile ...


Noah fumbled with his change

When it came time to park.


Below, the many pairs were restless.

Some began to bark.


Every fuse needs its spark,

like every tooth seeks its shark.


Like every junkie

fears his narc.


Doesn't take long

for things to go amiss


And tumble directly

into the deepest abyss.


No goodbye, no farewell

No parting kiss.


"Me, I'm just in this

To find eternal bliss,"


said the Joan of Arc

of Shakespeare snark.


Tuesday, August 4, 2020

Bosched & Breugled


The Froggy Bog at Bougival. Camille Pissarro. 1869





There’s a froggy bog

At Bougival.

Sirens wheezing.

Canadian geese geesing

To an off-tune violin cringe:

A melody without a hinge.

 

Assumed the stress

Was left behind

Snoozing on the fence.

Thought we were past tense.

 

But no.

This is the now.

Holy cow.

Stencils and pencils,

Oily utensils.


“Oh by gosh,”

Pierre muttered

with panache

and then spent the last 

Of his per diem

At the art museum.

 

Gaining access

He could address

Where he’d digressed.

 

Later he confessed

That he’d been depressed

If not somewhat possessed.

 

But he took his time,

Sipped his wine,

Enthralled at the shrine:

 

Bosched and Bruegled;

Renoired and café tabled;

Scarlett lettered and Clark Gabled.

 

Rodin and fisacoed

Picassoed and lassoed;

Degas viewed, and thus El Passoed. 



 

 

 

 

Sunday, August 2, 2020

Hoax Music





Seems like yesterday,
Word came about

A virus in China.

 

Cruise ship docks

In Seattle.

Endless prattle.

Shimmy and slide

As people soon died.

 

White House

Assumes we’re 

Just a bunch of mokes:

Mindless, clueless

Eager for Saturday tokes.

 

That we’ll ignore

The world is on fire.

“Just give them their smokes.”

 

Maskhole MAGA Hatters,

Dumb and Dumber.

Pandemic soon ensues.
So many without a clue.

 

White House insists

That it’s a hoax;

If we test less,

Less folks choke.
Is that some kind

Of fucking joke?

 

Up to you

How you choose it.
Backbeat, something

To help you lose it.
Might even be therapeutic.
Turn it up loud and proud

And play your hoax music.

 

 

 

Saturday, August 1, 2020

Coming Attractions

Better days are coming. 
But I am not sure how or when.
Just a feeling.

Maybe it’s a dream:
Faith and hope 
Meet as strangers on a train
With a couple of tickets to ride.

Were they just day trippers?

Or did they get all the way home?

Keeping all my cards close to the vest.
2020 is an Attitude Rorschach Test.