Poems of the Week

Home Sour Home

by Mae Scanlan

“I hate everybody in the White House;”
That’s the latest quote from You Know Who.
For him it obviously is not the right house,
The one on Pennsylvania Avenue.

He’s flustered and uneasy in the old house
That’s dedicated to the people’s need;
Far better he relocate to his Gold House,
And there resume his life of guile and greed.

Pulp Crucifixion

by Julia Griffin

When Mr. Harvey Weinstein fell,
The right-wing anchors gloated;
But life was transiently hell
For those whom he’d promoted.

The men at first declined the hook,
Remembering there’d be no
Scream, without him, Sex, Lies, Thief, Cook,
King’s Speech or Tarantino;

But actresses of every age
(Especially the greater)
Quickly assailed with righteous rage
This human alligator.

One’d called him God and one’d tattooed
Her rear with his initials;
This now they vehemently rued
To spokesmen and officials.

His wife, whose every fancy frock
He’d touted from the rafters,
Departed, raising thus her stock
With those who grant the BAFTAs.

Soon Mr. Feig and Mr. Firth
Were crying shock and horror,
Declaring Mr. Weinstein’s berth
Less moral than Gomorrah,

While, through the squawking of the press,
The comics started slanging
(For where the Bee sucks, you may guess
The fruit will be low-hanging),

And all the Internet in flood,
Now one enormous lobby,
Deliriously howled for blood—
None more than brother Bobby.

For all maintain, of Hollywood,
The purest expectations,
Accepting nothing less than good:
Not even allegations.

Ship Rajoy

by Ian Graham

Mariano, he calls Catalonia:
“¡Hey, Carles, I just had to phone ya!
Cos things ain’t quite clear.
¿You’ve seceded, I hear?
¿Or not? ¿Or not yet?
Well, here’s a safe bet:
If you have, then I’m not gonna let ya.
If you haven’t, I’m gonna forget ya.
Either this stops
Or I sail in the cops.”

The Road to Mandalay, NV

by Julia Griffin

(pace Kipling)

On the road to Mandalay,
The dawn comes up like static,
Or, alas, a ricochet-
ing semi-automatic.

A killer gets his wishes,
And the mighty NRA
Keep mum as flying fishes,
On the road to Mandalay.

The Vegas Shooter

by Chris O’Carroll

If he had been a different color,
We’d get why all those people died.
How can a rich white guy be evil?
Donald Trump is mystified.

Gnu Control Initiative

by Dan Campion

This policy passed unopposed
Because two letters got transposed.

The Most Expensive Paper Towels in the World

by Orel Protopopescu

Did someone calculate the cost
of all the rolls that POTUS tossed?
Add flying Air Force One to boot—
a million dollar paper route?

T., Rex

by Mae Scanlan

“Trump is a moron.” The comment was Rex’s;
He soon will be back in his home state of Texas.

Sins Of Emission

by Jerome Betts

“Methane emissions from cattle
are 11% higher than estimated.”
—The Guardian

Onward, cows and bullocks,
Browsing as of yore
Grass that covers Britain
Like a bright green floor.
Once it’s been digested
Gas will upwards go,
Boosting global warming
Everywhere below.

Squier and Price

by Cody Walker

(with apologies to Robert Frost)

Some share their smokes with Billy Squier,
Some with Tom Price.
From what I’ve gathered from “The Wire,”
I hold with those who favor Squier.
But if I had a head of lice,
I think I’d walk the interstate,
And search for Dr. Thomas Price,
Who’s not so great,
And not so nice.