Part Three: Who Do You Protect And Who Do you Serve?
The case of Justine’s shooting moves funereally slow,
Have the Police closed ranks lest their apprehension show?
In high summer the skies of Minneapolis look gray,
Up there, there may be a break of blue, but who’s to say?
How difficult getting Officer Noor’s testimony is proving,
Just as Justine lies silent, so too his lips remain cold, unmoving.
No apology, no point, no reason of why he shot that night;
Hoping to ride it out, hide out till the Press switch their spotlight?
Had it been one who administers the law who’d died
Would not the shooter already be tried or at least inside?
As time trails by, in a chill alley, shadowed, dark,
The trail goes cold, fading like a forgotten chalk mark.
Mutinous Looks From The Ranks.
Out comes another early morning tweet from the Great Defender,
‘Good folk of the Services, whichever services you render,
You resignation I and my Forces request you tender-
You can’t kill for my country if you’ve changed your gender.’
Dons life-changing tweet means one important thing- Don is a trender,
Only he and Christ knows if his born-again stance fits His or his agenda,
But even the Pope’s throwing his arms Heavenwards in surrender,
So please God could you return that dumb sh- twitterer to Sender?
Cutting To The Chase.
One foul swoop, out goes the Chief-Of-Staff,
One more swift tweet, out sweeps the chaff,
Reince is following Flynn and Comey’s unwilling example,
Looking over his shoulder lest he’s lost in the trample.
Step Two: House Training?
Well, now we know you can’t muzzle the Mooch,
He’s slipped off his lead, and now he’s screwed the pooch,
He’s jumping on the back of every turn-tail supporter;
Master couldn’t fix this foul-up with a bucket of Holy Water.
Never Been A Boy Scout.
The boy clad in beige asked, ‘might I be of assistance, Ma’rm?’
As she stood rooted where Broadway and West intersect.
Like good Sir Galahad the lad bowed, and she extended an arm;
The perfect gentleman is something New York girls don’t expect.
He looked left, then right, and then she felt more, not less alarm,
Oh boy, Don IS incorrigibly politically (and anatomically) incorrect.
The Rhyme And The Reason.
I watch the doings of our leaders, so sage and wise,
I shake my head, give a heartfelt sigh and roll my eyes,
Once I used to rant and rave but today that’s not my style,
Now I only offer a word to them wise-guys, and a sardonic smile.
Back then their clodhopping missteps and monumental errors
Had me waking, screaming in my bed, gripped by night terrors,
No more sitting in sweaty (sometimes slightly soiled) nightshirts,
Now on Fluoxetine I feel fine- apart from the odd bout of weltshmerz.
How now will the patriotic defenders of democracy regard Don?
What of his witterings on his Divine/Presidential right to pardon?
A call on which both Jeff and Don Junior most deafeningly agree?
I believe I heard Don perfectly clearly, but if I didn’t, pardon me.
What a pity for poor Mr Spicer,
All he got was pain and strife,
Will his sad life now get nicer
Now he can get a (quiet) life?
After all Sean’s double talk
Don has single-mindedly spoken,
Sean’s shuffled off for a quiet walk,
Oh, long may the silence be unbroken.
Two Of His Chosen Ones.
Don gave Sessions his contract, Jeff gave it his perusal,
‘Blind obedience, believe the unbelievable’- Dons usual;
When he makes an offer The Don doesn’t take a refusal,
So Jeff hastily signed on, time later for regret- and recusal.
With Comey going Don has another offer to extend,
He welcomed in Robert Mueller like a long-lost friend,
Would this crushing handshake and Dons limits never end?
Now he’s mulled it over, Bob suspects Comey started a trend.
Don’s picks know sniffing around his personal folder
Tends to make his warm and welcoming eyes smoulder,
Jeff and Bob are turning away, looking over their shoulder,
The balmy Mar-a-lago days have turned unreasonably colder.
What a cause for inquiry this shooting’s become,
Quite the mystery wrapped up in the conundrum,
But try to ask questions of the perpetrator of the crime
And he is unable to answer any inquiries at this time.
Do good people hold fast to the mistaken belief
That whispered confession gives blessed relief?
Oh, good grief.
The Mayor wishes this Officer would shed some light,
But he’s staying silent, and what’s wrong with that Right?
Say, why WERE body cameras off when the action occurred?
Perhaps he foresaw reason to be neither seen nor heard?
His lawyer says ‘keep your reasonings brutally short,
Or your mouth shut till they drag out your report.’
In open Court.