(A few thoughts from a member of Michigans moronic Militia while waiting on a lawyer.)
Just A Zealous Guy.
We can't have mobs roaming, owning the streets
Upsetting our noble brave boys in blue-
Unless they're brave knights wearing white sheets
Gathered there to protect the Right and true.
Unlike the good ol' ones these days are passing strange,
I see the sea change, it's blowin' a gale,
Seeing foreign faces not welcome in my home on the range,
They leave me looking a whiter shade of pale.
I don't want to hear or see all the signs of the times-
But I do hate to see Democrats legally elected,
I do believe in Mr Trumps brave assertion of ballot crimes
And that our Confederate flag is horribly disrespected.
I believe nowadays we hear too much colourful chatter,
I believe some folks just best shut their mouth,
I can't help but take a dim view of Black Lives Matter,
This proud North Michigan boy sez 'Go back South.'
So, since the law abiding Michigan voters don't know no better
And our redneck misogynistic feelings she's assaulting
We're gonna go get Governor Gretchen, leave a ransom letter;
Surely our founding fathers wouldn't call this revolting?
Strange, now I'm down in lockdown but atop the FBIs hot list
Yet I'm Right and white, so it all feels grossly unfair,
I'm feeling uneasy about getting stuck in a cell with a real terrorist,
This could be this sad-ass Aryans worst nightmare.
As a bit of silly fun there’s four song titles tossed into this. Artists are Bing Crosby (plus many others) Procol Harum, Harry Styles, Pug Jelly. If you’re bored, go figure. (Yes, Bonny Brian, a blatant musical rip-off; I feel no guilt…)
A Kick To The Chorus.
Once again Mr Trump’s re-election campaign
Is giving Neil Young cause to legally complain,
Neil’s getting grumpy that his copyrighted songs
Are being illegally played to promote Don’s wrongs.
Shouldn’t one of Don’s army of attorneys kindly explain
To Don that old Young’s tunes ain’t in the public domain?
All the plaintiff Neil wishes is for Don to cease and desist
From ripping his songs off and on to Don’s lousy party list.
The Rolling Stones have led the chorus of complaints, in vain,
‘You can’t always get what you want’ remains Trump’s refrain,
Don, use Ted Nugent’s crap, Teddy loves you, or ask Kanye West-
No, mebbe not, the colourful Kanye mightn’t pass Don’s litmus test.
Will Donald simply turn his back on all noisy complaints again?
Treat true legitimate protests with his usual dismissive disdain?
Well, the Rolling Stones have screamed at Don to stop for years-
It appears there isn’t a great deal resonating between dumb ears.
Pity Party At Egos Anonymous.
Sometimes when you wake up feeling sad and blue
On a rare blue moon when doubt bedevils even you,
When the wife’s heart feels cold, the future looks bleak
It’s time to lay your burden down and stand up and speak.
Don is prepared to bare his very soul- if he must,
Though heeding others opinion fills him with disgust.
‘Hello, my name is Donald and I’m a Selfish Neurotic,
Though those in my party prefer the term ‘quixotic,’
And now, as I think back on four hard fraught years
Thinking of a future past November brings me to tears.’
‘Why, suddenly no-one wants to be my Bestie?
Now all my good ol’ boys and Yes-men detest me.’
It’s a rare privilege seeing this side of Donald J. Trump,
In many a throat there his mawkish tale raises a lump,
There he stands, a broken man with his token friends
Ever deeper into self-pitying he maudlinly descends.
‘So, everybody dislikes me because of my personality?’
For once everyone freely agrees with Don, like, totally.
A day after another inauspicious red letter day-
150,000 Coronavirus victims went on their way-
Donald turns away from figures that make him squirm
And focuses his GreaT mind on securing a second term.
Dons polling is of concern, despite what he does say,
From where he sits perhaps its time to kneel and pray?
Or since Roger Stone’s now free to come up with a suggestion
He’ll open the whole Democratic Election system into question?
In his empowered position Don feels a powerful need to stay,
So now’s no better time to suggest just a slight election day delay,
An election free of mail voting, who could think of anything greater?
Like his Pandemic plan Don vows he’s bound to get to it, sooner or… later.
Devils And The Deep Blue Sea.
What’s happening to the National Party’s leadership?
Each new leader they select sees the Party’s popularity slip,
Since Commodore Key left leaving First Mate Billy the wheel
Helming the Titanic rather than the Blue Boat holds more appeal.
Old Bill, wise but dull as dishwater- his fortunes sank,
So Simon stepped up from the poop deck to higher rank,
Sadly Simon was simply out of his depth, young and green,
Under Simon the the boat- and votes- slid down like a submarine.
All too soon ’twas a grim story poor Simons opinion polls told,
Up from the mutinous crew stepped Todd, and Simon was rolled,
So a new Cap’n took the helm, they say the cream rises to the top,
But after a mere 67 days Captain Presumptuous found he was a flop.
Now Todd’s dream boat has sailed,
Another Leader’s bottled it and bailed,
The True Blue Crew ran about, looking around
But good fresh new Blue blood’s thin on the ground.
Now hard embittered Old School Jude-vcious runs the barge,
Tryin’ to clean up her
shit ship even as Deputy Gerry looms large,
In her steely claw the National scow’s bound to take a hard Right turn,
Losing middle ground rowing in ever decreasing circles- that’s her concern.
Don longingly looks up at Mount Rushmore,
At that monumentally stone-faced famous four,
Musing that it’s high time to make room for one more,
Who’s fine face would be a Great fit in this al fresco decor?
Not Obama, not Clinton, someone less blue, more red,
But it’s a ‘no’ too to two-term Reagan, too long dead,
Someone with stone-cold business smarts instead?
Well, he comes complete with rocks in his head.
The Trump Tribe were a’beating a path to his Tulsa rally,
The Okie dopey’s all a’lined up to be wowed by the high chief,
But today Donald’s high expectations for his crowd don’t tally,
Don’s claims for his latest GreatesT sell-out strain only belief.
Though rural Oklahoma’s no place Slick City Don wishes to dally
Still Donald’s speech rambles on, he wouldn’t think to make it brief,
His is the biggest shit-storm that’s ever blown down Tornado Alley-
Any protester he sees is a window-breaking rapacious pillaging thief.
Donald tries hard to work the thin crowd up to a cheering finale,
For those not his enamoured fans the limp end came as a grim relief,
It’s a climax as faked as Ms. Ryan evinced in ‘When Harry Met Sally,’
Perhaps here in the Big O is where Don’s re-election comes to grief?
By mid 2020 Don’s cozy world felt more like Lost In Space,
All manner of irritations Donny finds he’s forced to face,
Covid deaths are on the up yet Wall Street keeps falling,
Employment’s soaring but work on his great wall is stalling.
Since George Floyd’s filmed death he/we can’t ignore
Police protestations of pure angelic innocence anymore,
Now innocent protesters can’t be bashed and battered?
Suddenly Don’s expected to believe black lives mattered?
Now racial profilings wrong, so’s a ‘random’ pat down search?
A Prez cain’t just gas it down his streets to some saints church?
All these twisted changes are apt to confuse a traditional man,
Soon they’ll be banning the Stars’n’Bars and the Ku Klux Klan!
Don yearns for the bad old days when places were segregated,
When cops pounded the beat and the streets were dominated,
Now strange changes seem to be happening at a gay old pace;
Sexist money honey grabbers now look obseletely out of place.
The idea of uniformly crushing discontent has GreaT appeal
But now even Generals want to bring the dogs of war to heel,
Even the Mighty Military now recommend a conciliatory tone,
Though they all know the one voice Don can hear is his drone.
Don had once heard that every argument should be two-sided
But since he always knows what’s best for all he’s long decided
To gather round him that guns’n’glory armed mob he Rightly favours-
His one change is ‘this speech ain’t free till ya’ll sign them covid waivers.’
It’s time to rally the dupes, to blow the dog-whistles, drop the wink,
To ramp up the racist rhetoric, ain’t no time to change minds, or think!
To call a rich Damn Yankee the Mouth of the South sounds a misnomer
But his sick message is bound to resound in unchanging Tulsa, Oklahoma.
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.
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.