Donald Trump and the artifice of the Courthouse Deal. First, lean a finger on the scales, then give Blind Lady Justice a poke in the eye.

Dishonourable Discharge.

Roger Jason Stone, liar, dirty trickster and cheat,
Guilty of every damn charge on his long rap sheet,
Convicted of the sin of perjury by a jury of his peers,
A criminal who deserves to be sent down for years.

But no fear of confinement ol’ Roguish Roger faces
For Mr Stone has low friends in the highest places,
Although his complete culpability cannot be disputed
He just knows his just sentence must be commuted.

From looking at three years and four months in jail
Roger finds he doesn’t have to raise a sweat- or bail,
What a GreaT reward for the GOPs consummate liar,
Plucked out of frying pan, slithering back into the mire.

Now Don’s ‘Drain The Swamp’ cry has the ring of fiction,
‘Lock Her up!’ somehow lacks, unlike Roger, real conviction,
So run free,  mean moody and Machiavellian Mr Stone;
But Don, know it’s by your creepy company you’re known.

Still, it gives you pause
To consider what would cause
Dodgy Don to cut a crook a even break-
Double-dealer Don, for philanthropy’s sake!

Sooo, why does Don feel the unjustified need to intervene,
Help Rog the Rat, who’s spent his life nose down the latrine?
Does Roger have some dirt on Don in his deep bag of tricks
For Donald to forgive the most unconscionable of pricks?

©Obbverse

Donald guilessly says, when talking up his unemployment numbers, ‘Hopefully George Floyd is looking down right now and saying “this is a great thing that’s happening for our country.” ‘ Huh?

The Usual Pigs Ear.

I used to think Don was a proper moron
But he’s proved me wrong, sad to admit,
As his latest speech ramblingly wore on
His words confirm he’s the complete half-wit.

After George Floyd’s life was thuggishly taken
By some swine misrepresenting the police,
Wouldn’t any prescient President worth his bacon
Speak less of unemployment and more of peace?

To say George is up there, agreeably beaming
Shows Donald’s both tone deaf and color blind,
At best, let’s just say Don’s delusionlly dreaming,
At worst, he’s simply out of his tiny freaking mind.
 

What, another dose of nasty medicine Don prescribes to fix what ails us?

Imperfect 2020 Vision.

The bright new year started with a descent into sickness,
But never fear, not when we’ve our Doctor Don on your case!
Don dispensed with any treatments with breath-taking quickness,
Doctor Don’s considered response took up too much breathing space.

After all, his diagnosis was Mild Chinese Influenza,
He couldn’t imagine it would settle in these here parts,
For the Genius who’s applied for membership of MENSA
Admitting making such a dumbass decision definitely smarts.

Dimly Don saw poor common people being sorely afflicted
Then, hot on the heels of covid came the stock market crash,
Mortality rising, property falling means he’s personally affected,
Don sobs at seeing the figures, the senseless loss of cold hard cash.

But now, with masked criminals roaming the dark streets
Generallisimo Don’s response is sure, swift and mighty hard,
Now its time for cool heads, Big Whopper Don turns up the heat!
Soon you literally won’t be able to breath for all the National Guard.

©Obbverse

Donald Trump, GreaT leader, Good Book and sometimes churchgoing man, strong Law’n’order man and Lord knows what else.

No Sanctuary.

When God- and a good photo opportunity calls
Don beats a path to St John’s soot-stained walls
Where over those peaceably gathered a shadow falls.

Here’s where his political salvation may be found,
Don feels the need to make a stand on holy ground;
Strange, when odds are he’s downward bound.

Donald might not have bent a knee in years
But see him wave that bible as the smoke clears,
Christ alone knows this disservice will end in tears.

American Law and Order 101; It’s not hard, it’s always been black and white. And so it goes… Again.

Shielded From Evil.

Another black man lies in the street,
Another white cop keeps him down,
So slowly a good heart ceases to beat;
That’s justice served in Chauvin Town.

Those moving pictures are a tragedy to behold,
Kneed evidence of another good ol’ boy in blue?
It makes any poor innocent mans blood run cold;
Pray, Officer Chauvin, who protects us from you?

 

©Obbverse

Every time I think I’ve met the perfect woman some tiny little flaw seems to ruin my hopes of bliss. I can’t imagine why.

Everybody’s Best Bud.

After being rudely ejected from the Nags Head
I wandered up to the Star’s bar and woozily said
‘Barkeep, I’d like a shot of Johnny Walker Black-
Better bring the bottle, save you coming back.’

‘Hey, I’ll sip here quietly, leant against the wall,
Hey, you won’t even know I’m here till last call,
Good old Johnny is company enough for me,
He’s all I’ll need to help erase her memory.’

She wanted the ‘security’ marriage brings,
My freedom in exchange for two cheap rings,
My fancy-free days have come at quite a cost,
She showed me her door, told me to get lost.

Could she dump me so easily out of her apartment?
Forgetting the week I once chipped in with the rent?
The time I selflessly cleaned out the beer refrigerator?
So now she says I’m a drunken loser and see ya later?

She heaved me out, left me with no place to go,
Barkeep, I hardly had a chance to grab a momento,
I took her cookie jar, to remind me of the good times,
I swear it’s mine it’s chock-full of hard-sworn dimes.

Finally everyone but the barkeep and I had moved on,
The time was nigh, even my friend John had gone,
Then for the second time today I was shown the door-
Barkeep, ain’t no hospitality in your business anymore.

Twice this day this bum’s been kicked to the street,
This time by a size fourteen foot direct to my seat,
I tumbled to the pavement, my head began to spin
Staggered he could toss me out in the state I was in.

Another one to add to the list of ‘you’re barred’ bars
It felt fitting to lay there, alone, looking up at the stars
As mien host locked up and pulled down the shutters;
Yet another night, sleeping tight in the Gorbals gutters.

(The Gorbals is  a less-than-salubrious part of peaceful bonny Glasgow town.)

 

©Obbverse

I know we should keep our social distancing and we’ll have to make our own entertainment but can I quickly share this, Hollywood style?

Two perspectives.

His view.

It’s all bad news,
Unconfined doom and gloom,
It’s all greys and blues,
Tucked up in my tiny room.

Her view.

Isn’t life just fine,
Isn’t life too rich?
Corona’s picked up Harv Weinstein;
Harvey, is not karma a bitch?

 

©Obbverse

Money can’t buy you love or happiness, or popularity, so the song goes. For an ex-mayor of New York this is both sad and true.

Lost Its Bloom.

So ex-mayor Mike’s power jump has failed,
Those high White House walls remain unscaled,
His late ill-founded but well-funded quest
Has seen a cool half billion bucks go West.

So, no Presidency for poor saintly Mike,
Too many found there’s not much to like.

For a mighty rich man it’s a humbling thought-
Even a Trump tarnished presidency cain’t be bought,
Or perhaps the Big Apple is sick of GreaT big talkers,
One old rich white ass is enough for most New Yorkers.

Mike’s taken a costly kick in the pants, and a civil censure,
His overly frisky bad cop stops still proving a risky venture.

 

©Obbverse

Who to best explain to us the the real reason for Wall Street crashing? Hey, at least let Don fake- sorry, take us through his reasoning. Gives us all a reason to believe, doesn’t it?

The Low Down.

When the stock market’s riding high
Who trumpets ‘that’s all thanks to me!’
Who’s the propheteer, who’s the Great guy
Who takes every credit, Hallelujah and praise be?

But when the market starts to falter
Like one dark wintry Wall Street afternoon
When stocks plunge, who is down at the alter
Demanding to know Who the hell changed his tune?

Now the Dow has taken a tumble,
Since his healthy markets caught a cold
Don’t expect Don to sound sorry or humble,
He has a whopping Great tale that must be told.

Since his Wall Street has fallen flat
And its hurt his vanity and bank vault
He’ll blame his ills on some sick Democrat-
If not Bernie or Bloomberg, then it’s Gods fault.

 

©Obbverse

Harvey W gets the justice his infractions and actions so richly deserves. Not a dry eye in the courtroom.

Justice Done, In The End.

White-knuckled and gripping his well-worn walker
Stands the feared and infamous Hollywood stalker,
His attorneys trust this prop he theatrically clutches
Will elicit a sorry response in all it innocently touches.

When Harvey hears his hefty sentence
Does he hang his heavy head in repentance?
His lawyers disappointment they cannot conceal,
They definitely foresee a long and comprehensive appeal.

Harvey clutches at his chest as the pains start
Can’t his accusers and victims have a little heart?
So Harvey’s off to Hospital, put on observation and a drip
In the tender mercies of a cold-hearted nurse with an icy grip.

While the Judge adjourns for a well-deserved lunch
Harvey’s legal team swiftly get their briefs in a bunch,
Of Harvey’s innocence none harbour one ounce of doubt,
Honor bound to fight tirelessly on- until his riches run out.

Lying, crying, white knuckles gripping the gurney,
Wishing he had taken the Go-straight-to-Jail journey,
Suffering the indignity of those infernal hospital robes
Cursing as his smiling heavy-handed nurse internally probes.

 

©Obbverse