“A single strike” is all a snowball needs
To start to tip atop a lofty hill.
The comments escalate; we’re on the verge,
Mere inklings soon give way to deadly spill.
Trippingly, polite penmanship is gone;
Gut instinct is the world’s common language;
Formalities no longer buffer wrongs.
Good or ill, reality takes main stage;
Will seas turn foul as neighbors duck and cower?
Or are these not threats but empty guises?
Will Trump, or Kim, commanding, from his tower,
Begin blind watch, cold war, demise reprise?
Despite the fact that history repeats,
It seems the steps will always give cold feet. —PTL
The child can only trip so hard on matter
Before it breaks, force turned to energy.
Bits and pieces fall with unset clatter,
It’s failure met only with lethargy.
The object’s owner glares from eye to eye,
Looking for someone else to put to shame.
His gaze falls down; it was his own untying;
Surrounders cringe; there’s only one to blame.
In silence, a new accusation grows;
Relations are to weaken further now;
Because there’s new proof—everybody knows—
Now who’s Russian to get out of the door?
Whether the clay is gray or red, there’s shoving,
To duck the blame ‘fore someone gets the oven.
A slash, a crash—the glass is pouring out,
Into the heated waters of neglect.
His “plan” is followed by a second bout
Of claims both paranoid and incorrect.
His late-night lashings-out, with or sans robe,
Are wilder than the birds, who will not tweet
If he continues warming up the globe,
And trades the EPA for bigger fleets.
His mind lands on himself, as light is fading,
And shifts all blame to others, like a child.
As all our best protections are degrading,
He crows his trivial lies, with none beguiled.
His world seems fantasy, a separate reign,
Blind to all that breathe in his domain.