97

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.
—NN

72

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.
—OS, NN

67

“I think the big problem this country has
Is being politically correct.”
Why, Mr. Trump? I think of P.C. as
A thing that has a positive effect!
His party is, no doubt, waging a war.
They want to stop us from being tactful?
So do they want to get us to be more
Offensive?  I can’t get it through my skull.
They say that we’re all far too sensitive.
To change the way we speak? It’s far too hard.
The irony is hard to just forgive.
The things that matter most, they just discard.
They say we’re scared of words, which makes so strange
The headline: DOE Bans Words “Climate Change.”
—SF

56

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.
—PTL