by Chris O’Carroll

The things that he likes about Nambia
Are, believe me, too many to list.
Of praise for the health care in Nambia
His applause mainly seems to consist.
The strides they’ve been making in Nambia
Are terrific ones, that is his gist.
He has much more knowledge of Nambia
Than of countries that really exist.

by Joanna Bird

RSPCA called to rescue lizard that turns out to be a dirty sock — The Independent, September 2017

Is it a rare type of pink stripy gecko,
Or some other lizardy reptile instead?
Surely it can’t be a dragon (Komodo)—
Enough to fill anyone’s family with dread!
But no, it’s a far more formidable foe:
A teenager’s sock lurking under the bed.

by Julia Griffin

The Dotard is a cross between a leopard and a deer:
A fulminating throat before a vulnerable rear.

by Mark Granier

Manafort,
scrambling for any port
in a storm, any vessel docked in Shit Creek,
asks only that it won’t leak.

Sessions
in secret, before a mirror, does his impressions
of Yoda
and Jayne Mansfield sipping a cream soda.

Kelly
managed to separate Trump from his favourite telly
but, when it came to Twitter,
had to conscript the wife, the bodyguard and the babysitter.

by Orel Protopopescu

He takes a swing at Hillary
when feeling lost or off his game.
He doesn’t need artillery.
A thumb will do. He has no shame.

Polls under par? Balls out of bounds?
Then why not hit her in the back?
His base adores the way it sounds,
the whoosh! each time he takes a whack.

Teed off by Mueller’s iron grip,
he searches through his bag of fun
for phantom clubs to let her rip—
this madman, cheat, a-hole-in-one.

by Damian Balassone

Blessed are the rich
for theirs is the kingdom of heaven.
Blessed are those who mock
for they will be comforted.
Blessed are the psychotic
for they will inherit the earth.
Blessed are those who hunger and thirst for power
for they will be filled.
Blessed are the pussy-grabbers
for they will be called children of God.

by Mae Scanlan

When health care and global unrest get you down,
When tax cuts and budget woes cause you to frown,
Just pause and consider: a few months, and then
William and Kate will be parents again!

by Estes Smith

I fled the flooding wrath of Irma
For higher, drier terra firma.
I wish I could as well outrun
The image of The Orange One.
But even TV screens in Burma
Project his tinted do and derma.
I’d rather see, at point of gun,
The chubby cheeks of Kim Jong Un.

by Jerome Betts

Vice-Chancellor, who rules today
My former seat of learning,
From what we’re told about your pay,
It’s now a seat of earning.

by Mae Scanlan

Chuck and Nancy and Don
Shared a White House dinner last night
To mull what is going on,
And endeavor to set things right.

Chuck and Donald and Nance
Said the meeting was quite instructive,
A true bipartisan chance
That wound up being productive.

Don and Nancy and Chuck
Spoke of DACA, The Wall, and tax;
The Dems said a deal was struck;
The Donald said “Not the facts.”

Nancy and Chuck and Don,
This trio is not fake news.
It called for Dom Perignon,
But the Donald does not drink booze.

by Orel Protopopescu

There’s no mountain of sheer profit
Shkreli’s not ashamed to scale.
If he’d pay five grand to own it
at the risk of going to jail,
maybe tabloids publish secrets
from the DNA of hair.

Or perhaps he longed to grab some
just because he knows it’s there.

by Chris O’Carroll

He railed that Irma was a hoax.
His fans are anti-science folks,
Who smoke the same great crack Rush smokes.
Do you suppose a few more tokes
Will help them see on whom the joke’s?

by David Hedges

“Had America not absorbed the sheer skeeviness of that decade, we wouldn’t be where we are today.”—Op-Ed, The New York Times, September 2017

It seems that skeeviness is now
A word that everyone should know;
The New York Times would not allow
A word to interrupt the flow

Its readers are accustomed to
When tapping into current news.
Did skeevy pass a peer review?
Was it intended to amuse?

If skeeviness means what I think,
It started in the reign of Ronald
When everything began to stink,
And culminated in The Donald.

by Estes Smith

POTUS pouts,
When not a Twitter-happy cockalorum.

FLOTUS flouts,
In runway footwear, flood relief decorum.

by David Hedges

My older friends, I must confess,
Are scared down to their sneakers.
They’ve heard about, with great distress,
Trump’s vow to smoke out leakers.