Industry and progress wait their turn on
Death row; medicine to cure the globe expires
The call-to-arms, yet rallies cry for green.
The death of knowledge must be met with ire;
Enlightened masses speak collective truth.
Hypotheses built shakily on lies,
These ill-conceived refusals condemn youth
To dwindling nature and its gas-choked skies!
Demand for reverence for facts unites
The physicists and priests alike. Unjust,
To kill all hope to grow a jobs sound bite.
The grassroots grow wherever causes must.
Denying evidence for bottom lines
Will make us all canaries in the mine.


A new shield of secrecy for the US:
Logs of the flume of White House traffic
Will be kept secret. Bush hid his guests,
Trump tweeted in contradiction.  Classic.
Is the Trump era about secrecy?
Where are the tax returns, the proof of claims?
Tweets mean little, Trump, at your frequency.
Give facts to us and terminate your games.
Transparency can’t be weighed against cost.
$70,000 is chump change, chump!
To save money, cease your golfing fast.
While you see children play hide-and-seek
Childish leaders seek to hide and reap.


At yet another reporter’s behest,
Trump, yet again, is unsure what to do.
And while a curious reporter requests,
Veep realizes the President’s mistake—phew!
It’s evident on tape: order remains.
What would his reply be?  “I had no pen”?
Would Trump find blame for Democrats, again?
Or will “fake news media” be to blame?
What else will bungling White House acts not do?
That story about the wiretap is phony.
Don’t deny it, climate change is real, bro.
Chlorpyrifos is dangerous, Scotty.
Someone needs to start listening to facts,
Otherwise, there’ll be no turning back.


One tweet from before the fail, one after
Distracting from the legislative slump;
While we wait for what happens hereafter,
We recount the inventory of Trump.
Ivanka’s clan escapes certain disaster,
To Aspen’s slopes, and her father’s dismay.
For Trump, repeal too arduous a task;
ACA lives to see another day.
The unprecedented demagogue speaks
Words of assurance to the populace;
He assures them of his big plans, in tweets.
There is no bottom to his pompousness.
He’s claims they’re strides to come, these grave missteps,
As dissenters berate him as inept.


As Trump attempts to subvert government,
An immane barrier precedes the arts,
Environment. He barely pays the rent
On people’s interest in the national parks.
He narrows our lens to see the future:
America first—in illiteracy.
At his dethroning, we’ll require a suture–
To sew the wounds of torn democracy.
As cultural endowments, conservation
Are curtly nixed in favor of a wall,
The trumpeting brute gives a demonstration
Of where his main priorities will fall.
He means to smother cultural expression
As a new means of our abject repression.


Just yesterday, a predecessor framed:
Trump tried the notion that his phone was tapped.
His finances are secret yet, for shame,
But not his crackpot slander via app.
Obama’s standard-bearer shouted, “False!”
Trump’s aides denied concurrence with his claim.
And, wielding typo-riddled tweets, Trump waltzed
Right on, to make a federal case—insane!
The waxing gyre of fake news cycles spins,
He lobs new propositions sans citation,
Dismisses press with that “You’re fired!” and grins—
The unreality show that is our nation!
And though tweets are not yet state’s evidence,
His fabricated lies spread pestilence.
— OS, NN, JD


The Truth: where does it live now? Twitter? Press?
Can it make “FAKE NEWS” from “illegal leaks
(Which must be true to be illegal)? Stress
Is making Logic, friend to Truth, feel weak.
Next step: to make America so great
Again that we can all be in the room
With Truth, instead of only those who hate
Our immigrants, but hum a Russian tune.
And now we hear the president will skip
The rubber-chicken roast that counts as dinner
For journalists who love a winning quip
That wields the facts against their favorite “winner.”
Trump won’t attend their party–too uncouth;
He’s fairly safe from Humor, with his Truth.


Inherited a mess,” Trump says, for lack
Of competent administrations past.
Unmerited, on press Trump lays attacks,
For pointing out the mess of actions fast.
To question after question, Trump retorted
That he won votes, or doesn’t trust bad news,
And when the facts were to his face reported,
He blamed his staff, who gave him stuff to use.
This “finely tuned machine” has now been blocked
By courts, the voters, and internal leaks.
From “fine” (but fired) Flynn to borders locked,
From this “drained swamp,” an old corruption reeks.
And though the White House never makes mistakes,
From it, the leaks are real, but news is fake.
— OS, NN, JD


Americans, retailers, department stores—
Ivanka’s brands are dropped, in fact, because
Of conscientious buyers who deplore
Her father’s deep discounting of the laws.
The constitution will not buy the tort
Half-baked to keep out Syrian refugees;
Supporters hawk quick victory over the court
Which Trump sells with a trademark “EASY D.”
So who’s to blame: Trump’s two-bit-huckster rule
Or exhausted American buyers?
Is it just corporations like these who’ll
Rebound from our political desires?
We might well heed the adage in this fight,
The customer is always, always right.
— NN, OS, JD


A judge, met with the superlative grump,
To ensure that hatred would not prevail,
Reversed the notion made by Donald Trump:
Discrimination on a “yuuuge” scale.
A nation-state working against itself,
Tearing its binding at the seams within,
Like an unread book, aging on a shelf,
Our country’s scriptured pages grow too thin.
For travelers suddenly grounded afar,
A brief window of happy chance arose.
Now as they fly again toward our bright stars,
Two branches of the state are contraposed.
But where with humane law Trump disagrees,
Checks must be balanced for eternity.