National minds won’t change on the weather, ain’t no denying,
When it comes to carbon credits, the great mines ain’t buying,
They have no heart to turn away from their deep black hole,
Australia can go to blazes so long as they can sell their coal.
The mining moguls have dug up a fine solution
To cleanly dispel the dirty question of air pollution,
If their friends in power waver, show signs of doubt-
Whip out the big check-book and wave it about.
Most any Liberal proclaims climate change to be a myth,
They have any number of studies to twist and conjure with,
But as they silently rake over the razed and smoking ground
Has the hazy path towards enlightenment finally been found?
Donald is off on his latest low-down undertaking,
He needs money to fix a crisis, of his own making,
The Army of law’n’order fans of his border wall
Will now see Don pillaging Peter to pay Paul.
Building walls up was easy to say in an election run
But getting Mexico to pay is easier said that done,
He keeps calling about the millions of dollars they owe,
Not one ‘Hola’ has he got from the President of Mexico.
It matters not to Don that the funds are misappropriated
Or that real Democracy has been truly desecrated,
What do you expect when the megalomaniac you elect
Injudiciously, sadly, madly must get his vanity project?
There are times, times when Nature calls
When on the verge but the urge stalls;
After arriving white-knuckled,
Zipping down, belt unbuckled,
Then taking your seat with indecent haste
You find yourself sat, with time to waste.
What a tedious place to be confined,
In a silent cubicle, in a bind.
But no poet minds being ‘unavoidably detained,’
Sitting, pondering, mind wandering unrestrained,
I refuse to sit idly by,
I’ve pen and paper, triple ply…
Now my tale is told, and in reasonable rhyme,
A half-decent job, given the constraints of time.
It’s a bit slap-dash, it won’t win any poetry prize
But this gutsy effort still brings tears to my eyes.
(This is as close to the edge of bad taste as I tread. And who wants to tread any deeper?)
If you’re in Houston and place an emergency call
Crenshanda Williams won’t be concerned at all,
Whatever dire emergency you wish to report
Crenshanda likes to keep calls concise, and short.
All she wants at her workplace is contemplative quietude
But people insist on calling in and killing the mood,
All these people saying it’s a matter of life and death,
Her curt advice to them is to save their breath.
Crenshanda was told at her last workplace review
‘Answering emergency dispatches ain’t the calling for you,’
She won’t be working long here, that’s the word I hear,
Crenshanda’s being thrown out on her unsympathetic ear.