There’s something wrong; it’s in the wires; my head
Is throbbing, and I’m sure if we could speak
More freely I could find out what was said
In secret airports, globally, then leak
It to the media, but then, they too
Are enemies of ours, like Jesuits,
Illuminatoes, Masons, Russkies, Jews…
The evidence is there for all of it,
I know they ruined all my shows, or sent
Through airwaves frequencies designed to tune
My teeth on edge, the calls, the billions spent
To scan the messages in selfies, fake the moon–
It’s all connected at the source, I bet–
The brain, the coin, the talk, the bank, the net.


A call is placed from Spicer—high alert!
The trusted men and women straggle through.
Attorneys prod and poke and lift the skirts.
He’s looking for the source, whose ass he’ll chew.
The accusations fly across the room.
iPhones are grabbed, the tablets nabbed—adieu
To your career, if secrets found—you’re doomed.
“Confess!” he yells, while staring down his crew.
Their protestations counter every charge
Of treason Spicer lays on his new guard.
The tempers flare in people small and large,
Their reputations questioned, threatened, marred!
I pity them, who take the fall for me,
Though all I say is, “coffee, Sean, or tea?”


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


Words of fear and treason news is peddling;
They build on rumors, leaks, and campaign dirt.
The TV blares—it’s nonstop Russian meddling!—
Yet misdirection seeks to disconcert.
How can one month turn government to lies,
Make all news “fake” and all talk indignation?
Yet this administration’s foreign ties
Somehow still elude investigation!
Haunted by Flynn’s ghost and dossiers,
Trump’s odds seem slim, yet all is wait;
History repeats itself, they say;
Can Trump survive much worse than Watergate?
Though it’s our country that this man mishandles,
Still his mouth outruns his actions’ scandals.


American allegiance: Russia’s prize,
Not just the President, but NSC!
We scurry towards security’s demise
For Trump’s regime, and also you and me.
From GRU headquarters, hear the squeaks
Of those who thought that moles were “in like Flynn,”
Whose confidant has been undone by leaks,
Though hackers helped his friend-in-chief get in.
Though Flynn is ratted, hunted out of office,
His furtive dealings leave so many questions.
The House Dems smell blood; GOP is cautious;
While fears of blackmail spur investigation.
Ensnared by accusations and offenses,
A rat is cut loose, as the mousetrap tenses.