Tag: trump
Outrageous
I couldn’t help but notice that 2nd Amendment bumper sticker next to the
Confederate flag emblem and the Trump for President sign on your white pickup
Truck. I raised my hand to wave my middle finger, but was afraid you’d take it as an
Invitation, so instead I mustered a smile and entertained happy thoughts of the
Donald being dissolved in a vat of acid while wrapped in the stars and bars of a
Symbol from America’s racist past. My momma always told me that ladies don’t
Flip the bird, but she said nothing about imagining the gruesome end of a would-be
Tyrant and his dangerous rhetoric. Being ladylike never felt so good.
Posing Naked
A chance to pose naked
at my age
at this size!
what a concept
an opportunity to wag
my fifty-nine
year old ass at the
Republican National
Convention.
Take that Mr. Trump.
Don’t worry, I won’t take part in the great nude-in. Or will I? No, no, no. Butt….😉
Peace, people!
When Mercy was Murdered
The day they murdered Mercy we all stood still around
Hands inside our pockets; eyes firmly on the ground
Unwilling to witness the death of our dear friend,
Yet complicit were we in assuring her end.
Fierce sun beat down, unabridged, unabated
Sweat’s stench laced with fear filled the street, permeated
No respite in shade on summer’s cloudless day
Mercy lost a step, slumped into a sway.
Sharpened spears in their grasps, old men prodded apace
Laughing and pawing as she fell upon her face
Roughened hands yanked bleeding Mercy sharply to her feet
Spun her in a circle, stomping to a beat.
The scene looked so familiar as we’d lost Hope two days past,
And Mercy’s fate was sealed when she stood up at the last
Calling foul upon accusers, judge, and jury, in the wrong
But the damage was done and Hope was dead before that day was done.
Now most pray that Mercy’s end will come without a hitch
That we can mourn in silence; no one will raise a fist
Surely if we remain inert the murderers will soon tire
Of dragging innocents to their deaths upon a raging pyre.
The grisly deed is drawing near, the wood begins to smolder
Perhaps we ought to save her, perhaps we should be bolder.
But we bargained for this merciless life when we let Charity die
Upon the bloody campaign trail stoked by wicked lies.
The Diggers’ Vote
Twenty years spent digging ditches, climbing through
stacks of detritus, too tall to fathom, too many fathoms to ponder.
Some streaks of weakened light leaked past guarded columns of
life’s waste and want. “I still cannot see the end,” came the distant scream.
“Just keep digging,” called a calm response. “You’ll hit paydirt one day.”
The foreman urged patience and tenacity.
Those digging broke nails and fingers and backs.
“Come election day who do you reckon you’ll be voting for?” Digger 1 asked Digger 2.
Digger 2 did not pause in her labors. “I like that Trump guy.” she said.
“He’s gonna build a big wall to keep them illegals from stealing our jobs.”
“Yep. That’s how I see it,” spat Digger 1.
“Quit your jabbering,” smiled the foreman. “Keep digging.”
Revulsion Therapy Diet
Revulsion therapy revealed to be
The secret to losing weight
No exercise or counting calories
Just eat while watching GOP debates.
It’s hard to keep one’s appetite
Or to hold one’s food in check
While Cruz prays like a Pharisee
And Trump spews racist rhetoric.
Bush’s bemused befuddlement
Plays havoc with digestion
Still Carson’s sonorous delivery
Works exactly like L-Tryptophan.
One caveat for those who choose
To suffer through this hell
Not only will pounds melt away
Your sanity might, as well.
The Wall
way beyond the outer fence
where the people seldom go
live gnarly gnomes and frightful elves
my mother told me so.
we live within the shelter
erected in far distant years
against grave dangers present
the source of all their fears.
some day i’ll venture out there
past the barriers they’ve set
to find my fortune or my death
or perhaps to pay our debt
for it seems a wall this sturdy
built ’round our country lost
was not to keep the others out
but us in at any cost
Praying for Eyebrowz Copyright 2015 by Leslie Noyes.



