Category Archives: anxiety

Donald takes a moment to deal with irksome issues. Well, it’s been a memorable week, for any number of reasons.

What Numbers Really Count?

Fly high that flag,
Strike up that band,
Don don’t wanna brag
But ain’t US grand?

‘Merica still is Number One
When totting up the covid tally,
But don’t sum up, the fun’s just begun
As Dons supporters begins to rally.

Combine Britain, Italy and Spain
And USA stays top o’ the heap,
‘Merica beats Brazil by twice again,
But that’s a record Don can keep.

He’s unbelievably willing and able
To show us he’s a gen-u-ine genius,
Red based and so rock solidly stable;
So he oh so incessantly tells us.

In Donald’s Disunited States
Since this ‘little flu’ took hold
US surpassing all mortality rates
Ironically left many Don supporters cold.

Respectfully dropping standards to half-mast
Don knew what he had to do,
Donald acted, and acted fast
By opening up and smiling through.

But don’t you feel danged proud,
Don’t it thrill  chill your mortal soul
To repurpose Old Glory as a funeral shroud,
Helping hide a Memorable veterans toll?

One hundred thousand covid dead,
And lo, that number’s growing,
Unmasked, unchecked, see it spread
Wither the fu fickle winds a’blowing.

Through Don’s impressive leadership
The sad bad numbers keep on rising,
Don won’t let his impassive mask slip.
Figures; he’s quite adept at disguising.

Donny has surpassed the highest test,
‘Merica must always takes first place,
Amongst Don’s GreaT people he’s the best,
Their truly exceptional special case.

– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –

Don stands shadowed by his flapping flag,
Teary of eye, tremulous of hand,
These numbers do  make his shoulders sag-
He’ll never get his ball out of the sand.

 

©Obbverse

There’s something amiss going on at the White House, and it’s getting closer to home every day for the worst- oops, First Family.

White House Woes.

‘Dear Mr President, it grieves me to say
I’m sick, so won’t be in to serve today,
I’m ever so sorry,’ your favourite valet-
‘It’s a case of Covid, I’m positively afraid.’

‘My dear Mr Vice-President Pence
I’m sick too, so you’ll have to dispense
With my dealing with the Press’s comments,’
Fake regards, Katie Miller, Press Aide.

‘Dear Ivanka, it’s your Personal Ass here,
I can no longer kowtow to your every need, I fear,
I do hope I’ve not spread more than good cheer.’
‘Good luck,’ your gofer/dogsbody/dress maid.

 

©Obbverse

Governor Kemp opens Georgia for business, and the hell with some potential irritating minor infections.

 
Brother Brian’s Economic Revival Show.

Governor Kemp’s sweatin’ on gettin’ Georgia’s economy going,
Some may even justifiably say Brian is in a damned awful hurry,
He wants to get cash flowing even as Covid cases keep growing,
Being morally bankrupt means spreading death’s less of a worry.

‘Buy that first Big Mac, spring for a tat, slug down that latte,
Go Mall strolling, go ten-pin bowling, grab that full massage,
Catch up with old friends, plan for a weekend long party,
Invite in-laws, outlaws, gather together the entire entourage.’

Governor Kemp’s decision has been peremptorily made,
Kemp’s health experts advised him to go slowly but surely,
But his wealthy cohorts exert the upper hand, I’m afraid;
Will Quickdraw come to rue playing his hand prematurely?

 

©Obbverse

The genius doctor is now only takes White House calls. Thank God.

Second Opinion, Please.

First Doctor Don recommended Chloroquine
To save your ass from Covid nineteen,
Now he’s found another cure for our plight,
It came to him in a flash of ultra-violet light…

All you need is disinfectant in a syringe-
It’s a cure to make Doctors Fauci and Birx cringe,
Who but Snake Oil Don would one have expected
To conjure a cure from Lysol intravenously injected?

Now Doctor Don’s prognosis I do rather doubt,
A dose of covid and Lysol and and you’re wiped out,
No, I will reject the advice of Doctor Tangerine,
It’s more kill or cure than quick and clean

Ah, that first crushing of tender young love. The scars fade and we move on. Try to move on. Ah, to be an automaton.

Dead Mans Chest.

I saw her here,
I saw her there,
It would appear
I saw her everywhere.

In the school bus
I sat and stared,
I dreamed of us
As if she she cared.

In my fevered mind
I looked suave and cool,
She remained obdurately blind,
Friends agreed, kind of cruel.

Then, as we passed by
A look, though fleeting
Registered in her eye-
Two pupils meeting.

So it came to pass
With one come-hither glance
That Delilah of a lass
Led this fool a merry dance.

She had her fun
Sadly at my expense,
Fair heart not won-
Her warm heart a pretense.

She left me distraught,
That devils daughter,
Without a second thought
Wrenched at my aorta.

My dreams shattered,
Much like my pride,
Left bowed and battered
Something deep inside me died.

Now I’ve a busted heart,
Broken in twain,
The only good bloody part,
It won’t break ever again.

 

 

©Obbverse

Keeping social interaction at bay is easy-peasy. Simply stay in ones home. But keeping boredom at bay, now that comes with its own issues.

Boundaries Of Reason.

The unwelcome virus arrived one cold day,
It’s settled right in and looks set to stay,
Like a Jehovah’s Witness it won’t go away.

With no cure or vaccination known
We’re advised to stay at home, alone-
What better company to be in but my own?

I thought I’d love lounging about, being lazy,
Rolling in bed, hours and days, getting hazy,
But I’m getting paranoid or going stir crazy.

I thought I’d take it all in my stride,
This keeping your distance, staying inside-
Now my gripping company I can’t abide.

I’ve re-read every last book, cover to cover,
I’ve re-recounted that night with my first lover,
My eyesight’s shot ‘tween books and thinking of her.

 

©Obbverse

The waiting is over, the trash talk is starting, the game face is on, bring out the cheerleaders, go Team Trump, go! Please, go.

That Fabled NeverNeverNotEverWhatsoeverLand.

This is proving one tough sumbitch virus to tame,
So, now as the grim figure becomes a national shame,
Prima Donna, who hadn’t figured at the start of the game
Suits up, and it’s sick to see how quick Don can counterclaim.

Getting all the sick folk better is a noble aim
But it’s Jesus’ job to comfort the ill, old, the lame,
Don might have dithered but how slickily he became
The only One to point out its not he but WHO’s to blame.

 

 

©Obbverse