by Chris O’Carroll

Though we love tax cuts for the rich,
His toxic character’s a bitch.
While we applaud deregulation
To screw the workers of our nation
And foul the water and the air,
His ignorance makes us despair.
With his racism we’d be cool
If he weren’t such a reckless fool.
He’s a dictator wannabe
Defined by amorality.
We’re the non-crazy GOP.
Trust us, we’ll head off World War III.

by Julia Griffin

Never mind the public psyche:
It’s the NASDAQ that will tell
If the world revolves round NIKE
Or around the NFL.

by Marshall Cobb

“By calling Sessions a dumb Southerner, Trump has done the impossible.”—Issac Bailey, CNN

So Donald Trump with his big mouth
Has managed to piss off the South.
The South which gladly gave their votes,
Dismissing all those Twitter quotes.
The South which always had his back
And never failed to cut him slack.
Ignoring every single fault,
They loved the total Trump gestalt.
Their anti-immigration cry?
“Let’s build the wall, let’s raise it high!”
But now he may have jumped the shark
With that “Dumb Southerner” remark.
It’s hard to say, it’s just September,
But will they dump him come November?

by Julia Griffin

“Ruby red slippers worn by Judy Garland in the movie The Wizard of Oz have been successfully recovered after the shoes were stolen from a Minnesota museum over a decade ago, the FBI announced Tuesday. … There were no finger prints or surveillance video of the theft—all that was left behind was a single red sequin.”—Huffington Post

At a time we need a tonic,
Every prospect looking vile,
The return of two iconic
Souvenirs should spark a smile:

Ruby-sequin-studded slippers,
Which when Hollywood was sweet
Made two blushing Little Dippers
Out of Judy Garland’s feet.

Though of two divergent sizes
(Any shoes may be mismatched)
These inestimable prizes
Had been criminally snatched,

Leaving countless hearts in rubble,
Till last Tuesday when, O my!
Bright as Glinda in her bubble,
Came the the mighty FBI:

With one sequin for assistance
And strategic use of moles,
Those detectives went the distance
Till they found those poor lost soles.

Iterate this all you want if
You are ever sad and blue,
Noting also that the Pontiff
Has had more to bear than you:

As the Church’s shame advances,
There is much he stands to lose;
Though conveniently, Francis
Ditched long since his ruby shoes.

by Bruce Bennett

McCain is dead. Trump’s not okay.
We know the reason why.
He can’t say what he aches to say:
“True heroes do not die.”

by Michael Calvert

“British and French fishermen have clashed in the Channel, over alleged “looting” of the scallop fishing grounds there by British boats. … The French fishing industry is bound by an agreement not to fish for scallops between May and October, to conserve fish stocks.” — BBC

In trawler and in shallop we’ve pursued the precious scallop,
Chief ingredient of our Coquille St. Jacques;
But if you make your mission messin’ with our humble fishin’,
You limey bastards better watch your backs!

We shun those who are selfish when it comes to nettin’ shellfish,
When we’re limited to fishing by the book;
Those Brits who hate this ban’ll simply sail across the Channel,
But we won’t float there helplessly and look.

We’re pissed off—with good reason—for you ruthlessly can seize on
Technicalities that let you grab our stocks,
We’ll just see how well you get on, and how much you get your net on,
When we’re ramming you and pelting you with rocks!

We’ll gladly make a scene if it will guard our French cuisine;
We’ve got the courage and we’ve got the ships.
It’s your manners we deplore; we expected nothing more
From the nation that invented fish and chips.

by David Hedges

Google “idiot” and guess whose face
Pops up, in Images, at Number One?
Little Donnie’s! Same with Second Place
As well as Third and Fourth and Fifth. What fun!

Google’s algorithm is to blame.
It does a lot of nifty little things
But can be twisted in a kind of game
Where rings of shifty people pull the strings.

Reddit’s right-wing forum tags nonstop;
On Reddit, smears and lies “are fine to post.”
Bill Clinton, tagged with “rapist,” hit the top
Of Google’s list. “Free speech,” their people boast.

But Little Donnie couldn’t wait to vent,
So even though it’s Reddit’s fault, for Pete’s
Sake, he takes aim at Google with intent
To bomb them to oblivion with tweets.

by Julia Griffin

“An international team of surgeons have started measuring a tiger in India for an artificial paw, thought to be the first attempt in the world to fit one of the animals with a prosthesis. The eight-year-old male named Sahebrao was caught in a poacher’s trap along with his brother six years ago. The older sibling died, but Sahebrao was rescued and taken to the Maharashtra Animal and Fisheries Science University for treatment.”—The Guardian

Tyger Tyger, cross and dour
In the shelters of Nagpur,
What physicians dare apply
To mend thy damaged symmetry?

What brave souls, deserving awe,
Prepared thee a prosthetic paw?
Assign the proper credit to
The Maharashtra Science U:

Theirs was the hammer, theirs the chain—
Or so a poet might explain
The instruments they used to keep
Thy fearful sinews sound asleep;

And when their arts had laid thee flat
Beneath the scan that’s labelled CAT,
It was the Maharashtra crowd
That stitched thee up and did thee proud.

Tyger Tyger now complete
On thy newly-balanced feet,
Did they smile their work to see?
Or run like hell away from thee?

by Daniel Galef

The Daily Mail reports that Jennifer Lawrence is seen reading Frank O’Hara’s Lunch Poems with her boyfriend; in fact, it turns out to be a $1500 purse in the shape of a book.

How funny you are today Daily Mail
not like Chris Pratt in Passengers
but maybe like Chris Pratt in something else,
before he got buff

where’s Jennifer Lawrence
she’s out reading

American Hustle
meet American Pastoral
hunger games at the hungry i
not that we like poetry (we just need it)

and the little handbag is on the bookshelf
next to the snowglobes
and the succulent plants
and the Oscars

oh god it’s wonderful
to carry a book around
and look smart doing it
but it’s better than a book
because can a book hold your change
i didn’t think so

by Dan Campion

It’s fifty years since billy clubs
Cracked random back and head:
Throughout the land, steins raise in pubs
That no one fell down dead.

A half a century since Da Mare
Cursed Ribicoff! The Hump,
Predictably, got drubbed. From there,
The road led straight to Trump.

You think I’m daft, it’s just cold draft
That says the world’s that shallow?
Drink up, friends. Feel the tear gas waft
From Michigan and Balbo.

by Chris O’Carroll

Red stripe, blue stripe, wacky new stripe,
Demagogue without a clue stripe.

Living free game, take a knee game,
“Sons of bitches” Twitter spree game.

Demagogue on the attack,
Not pro-flag, just anti-black.

by Julia Griffin

“No, it isn’t truth!” Giuliani roared. “Truth isn’t truth.”—The Guardian

Better not match the things I say are true
With what I said I meant: truth is not truth
That doesn’t change when situations do,
But keeps recording like a photo booth.
Jeez no, it is an ever-spreading mark,
That looks on Daniels and is never shaken:
It is the sound of Giuliani’s bark,
Which is so loud you know he’s not mistaken.
Truth’s not truth’s fool, though failing NBC
May try to sabotage its wiggle-room;
What sets you free, why wouldn’t that be free?
Just bear me out, or watch me fire you, boom!
If this be error, and upon me proved,
Some low-life DOG is going to be removed.

by Marshall Cobb

“If 1967 was the Summer of Love, well, 2018 is starting to feel like the Summer of Food Poisoning. Oh how times change.”—The Boston Globe

“Eat salad,” they said. “It’s terrific for you.”
So I thought, “Why not give it a try?”
But later I turned a sick, yellowish hue,
So I’m sticking with stuff that they fry.

by Julia Griffin

“Man injures himself falling into a black hole art installation that doesn’t look like a hole at all
… The 1992 installation, a creation by Indian sculptor Anish Kapoor named ‘Descent into Limbo,’ appears to have no depth due to the extremely black paint it is coated in.”—ABC News

Don’t think a hole is just a lack;
Kapoor has painted this one black:
The sort of paradox that floors
Art less capacious than Kapoor’s.
Although it gleams like solid paint,
Experience reveals it ain’t;
So careful where you put your foot!
Don’t blame Kapoor when it’s kaput.

by Ruth S. Baker

“A Tennessee Man Is Accused of Hitting His Ex-Girlfriend in the Face With a Biscuit”
—The Associated Press

A-taskit, a-tiskit,
He hit her with a biscuit;
Please understand
He’d pledged his hand:
She never thought to frisk it;

A-tiskit, a-taskit,
What did she then? Don’t ask it:
Though some, they say,
Did whiff flambé
Of brisket through his casket.