Again we hear the voice of tyrants,
When muzzled are those willing lay blame.
King, an icon’s wife, condemned to silence?
I, a Senator, suppressed in chambers?
The ones who need it most are deaf to facts,
And how can you convince if they won’t hear?
Our Senate trades their blows, abrupt attacks—
But do little to subdue the people’s fears.
So though I speak outside, I’ll speak—oppose!
All nominees acrimonious and adverse,
The corrupt inside a party I’ll expose!
Though now, by force, my statement’s wrongly terse,
The Trump administration I’ll resist;
Against all false decorum, I’ll persist.



The sun sets on a nation most divided,
The lines within our Senate clearly drawn.
One Justice for the High Court is decided,
Another parlous presidential pawn.
In a time of politics played to extremes,
Partisan words and actions polarize.
The new recruits to elitist regimes,
Contribute to Democracy’s demise.
The finished slate speaks for United States,
Yet like them, we are still far from united.
The nuclear option looms over debates,
For citizens and Senate are ignited.
While blue and red, and left and right, compete,
America is who will feel defeat.



A dire election follows dire election;
Extremest choice extremist justice chooses.
If populism yields elite selection,
Our human rights must yield to rightist values.
A country split but narrowly toward blue
Now courts supreme decisions redder still;
The voters’ will has voted in a crew
Who vote by corporate checkbooks, not by will.
By making judges partisans of power,
We sell our halls of justice for a pittance;
If Neil will kneel before our leader’s hour,
What force will force a check on our balance?
Two wrong choices cannot make a right,
Though choices rightward surely wrong our plight.


This lineup change may make a “yuuge” shift,
Keep Donald up to bat for future swings.
To some it will be home run–others, miss–
A friendly court so close, he sees its stitching.
Ted Cruz, the bleachers play, is too far out;
The choices now all come from central casting.
And even here, Trump looks for kith to kin,
Though narrow picks’ effects may well be lasting.
Today we meet the problems yet to come,
Before the pitch, there’s outrage in the stands.
The wind-up done, the crowd begins to hum:
Will this be curve, or fast one, from small hands?
A knuckleball whose path cannot be guessed,
Arrives at home, by voters’ rooting blessed.