by Mae Scanlan

Says Trump, “Kim Jong Un is a pretty smart cookie,”
And he “would be honored to meet him.”
Our leader is such an incompetent rookie,
One wonders why nobody beat him.

And now he’s invited the Philippine prez
(A tyrant) to come here and talk;
Each word our ridiculous president says
Elicits a loud global squawk.

If Vlad the Impaler were back on the scene,
Along with Attila the Hun,
Trump would invite them both over to glean
His Floridian Place in the Sun.

by Chris O’Carroll

Old Hickory could have headed off that war,
Maybe by shrewd Trump-like negotiation.
(We know he was too tough to go in for
Some liberal failure like emancipation.)

Perhaps he would have built a wall between
The North and South to keep the war at bay,
Or cut the taxes that the Bowling Green
Massacre had made slave owners pay.

No one has worked out why the war was fought.
No scholars have explored that mystery.
Thank goodness Donald’s giving it some thought
As he and Andrew rewrite history.

by Jerome Betts

(Council elections in England, Wales
and Scotland on the 4th of May 2017)

He was sent to get facts for a piece
In a key rural seat, eve of polling.
Signs of swing down to lack of police?
The debate about badger-controlling?
After hours in the old Fox and Geese
He reported: “The countryshide’s rolling!”

by David Hedges

When Donald Trump first met Theresa May,
He clasped her outstretched hand and pulled her tight,
Mumbling the sorts of nothings he might lay
On bright-eyed bimbos in the dead of night.

He pulled the same faux pas with Shinzō Abe,
Though faux pas’s absent from The Donald’s lexis.
It’s not like calling someone kemosabe
Or pardner or compadre in West Texas.

A body language expert boiled it down
To alpha male behavior. Power and sex.
The pull, the pat, the smirk, the circus clown
Burlesque, the slow withdrawal, meant to vex.

He added Netanyahu to the notches
Carved where he keeps track of crude behavior.
(He fills in scorecards when he’s groping crotches.)
Republicans are calling him their Savior.

by Edmund Conti

Donald Trump, our latest sage,
Waning, sometimes waxing,
Has his plan on a single page.
I guess it won’t be taxing.

by Mae Scanlan

Yikkity yakkity,
Kellyanne Conway was
One of the staples of
Cable TV.

Lately we’ve not seen her
Telecommunicate;
That was on orders from
Powers that Be.

She was a chatterbox,
Kellyanne Conway was,
Till she began to flog
Jared’s wife’s wares.

That was a no-no, so
Unhesitatingly
She was admonished (if
Anyone cares).

by Chris O’Carroll

NATO was one of those things
That I didn’t know about much.
Congress was, too. So was health care
And science and history and such.

I’m big talk backed up by small knowledge.
I’m ignorant. I’m unaware.
And what I don’t know’s not the worst of it,
Believe me! I don’t even care.

by Douglas G. Brown

Since April, there’s been talk of booting May,
Though she’s convinced that she’ll survive the day
That’s scheduled to occur in early June.
Will she prevail, or will her party swoon?

I have no clue, but I can still remember
How Yankeeland was Trumped in cold November,
And though we now are warming up to summer,
The Leftists here persist in whining, “Bummer.”

Be you a cynic or a true believer,
Elections can create a torrid fever
Which contradicts all logic, rhyme, and reason;
But human folly’s never out of season.

by Dan Campion

Not only is he loutish, crude,
And given to vain boasts,
He’s spawned a spoiled and greedy brood
And named some to high posts.
Besides according facts wide berth
In favor of bald lies,
He won’t disclose how much he’s worth
And flirts with foreign spies.
He’ll change direction on a dime,
Pick up the dime, and keep it.
He’s coated enemies in slime.
Low slander? He repeats it.
For all of this, we love him so,
Our better angels swan.
They must mistake our hero, though:
The classic Star Trek’s Khan!

by Orel Protopopescu

There’s nothing titillating in a tittle,
a silly-sounding word for what’s so little,
you might say that it’s almost microscopic.
So why should I expound upon this topic?

All things accrue, one tittle at a time,
and tasty snacks may add up to a crime.
The sugar that once made you energetic,
now plots to make you plump and diabetic.

For good or ill, a tittle has the power
to make or break a sentence or an hour.
Combined with other tittles, then, who knows?
An air force can be grounded when it snows.

One Bang! transformed the infinitely small
into space-time, our paradise and fall,
ballooning from a tittling spark that roared
to form vast galaxies, still unexplored.

Now spring advances with unseemly speed,
precipitating growths from mutant seed,
and toiling tittles, feeling less than blessed,
make revolutions, or at least, protest.

So tittles of the world, rise up, unite,
before some self-inflating troglodyte,
the tittles of his brain ablaze with lust,
turns sub-atomic tittles into dust.

by Chris O’Carroll

That ship we said was headed north,
A symbol of our strong objection
To Kim Jong-un? It’s really going
In the opposite direction.

The era of fake leadership,
Rabid Fox fake punditry,
And whiny rants about “fake news”
Now brings us fake geography.

by Claudia Gary

Watch April in labor.
Watch Oliver pace.
Watch Missile Tests slide down
to second, third place.

Front hooves have emerged.
What cute little knees!
I don’t want a war,
I want one of these.

While baby’s legs hang,
Mom stops for a snack.
Why can’t that long tongue
give the White House a whack?

When hotheads prevail,
stability sours.
This calf soon will crash-land,
then walk within hours,

upstaging its mom–
but she won’t go ballistic.
She’s caring and calm,
not at all narcissistic.

Is April to blame
for stealing the show?
Let world leaders learn
what giraffe mothers know.

by Robert Schechter

There once was a man named O’Reilly
Who conducted himself rather vilely.
For years he’d harass.
But they fired his ass,
So this limerick concludes with a 🙂

by John Whitworth

Air: The Wiliiam Tell Overture

Come away, come away, we will not stay.
Let us drink to the health of Theresa May:
She’s the lass with the class for this glorious day.
It’s the day that we dreamed would come.

It’s an end to the EU prospect drear.
It’s an end to the lies of Project Fear.
Now we’re out, they must tout for a new career.
It’s the day that they all succumb.

Every boff, every prof, every mandarin,
They all said we were dead, that we could not win,
That we’d have second thoughts when the sky fell in.
How they wish that they’d all kept mum.

Every hireling hack, every goof with a gong,
Every deadbeat repeating the same old song,
Repeat after me, you were just plain wrong
And you’re out on your lefty bum.

by Jerome Betts

Where are the beards of ancient might
From deepest sable to snow-white?
So many egos were once bolstered
By jawlines copiously upholstered.

Fine-spun, or of a rope-like strength,
Neat, shaggy, flowing, navel-length,
The great and good could earn top dollars
With beavers fit for ayatollahs.

Charles Darwin, Alfred Tennyson,
Had growths that seemed to run and run,
While Dr Grace’s chest of matting
Lent awesome force to England’s batting.

One fact that few can dare deny −
Barefaced still collocates with lie.
Would voters find less cause for doubting
Elected members who keep sprouting?

But, sadly, no. Ms. Brex-Crex-Crex
May change her mind, but not her sex
And what the POTUS spreads among us
Can’t be disguised by facial fungus.