Monthly Archives: February 2020

The Day the Constitution Died

I wrote this using parts of the song, “American Pie” as a basis:


February 2020 really made me shiver.


When the senate impeachment didn’t deliver,


as the GOP under the carpet swept


Trump’s Ukrainian blackmail attempt.


Moscow Mitch made it cut and dried


that witnesses would be denied


and America’s Founding Fathers cried


as on this day the U.S. Constitution died.


So, Die, die U.S. Constitution die.


Trump tweeted ranting incessantly.


GOP senate boys turned a blind eye


Singing their battle cry,


this is the day the Constitution will die


This’ll be the day the U.S. Constitution will die.


The senate courtroom was adjourned


With a no impeachment verdict returned


Trump tweeted out exonerated remarks.


Claiming him and Melania are royal oligarchs.


All according to the Gospels of Mark


The day Constitution died


Trump was singing, lie lie


Americans are buying my lies.


While the rich receive another tax shelter.


Glaciers die off from climate change swelter


As republicans deny scientist’s warming forecasts


Trump acted nimble, Trump acted quick


and did the State of the Union, going ballistic,


because he is the Devil’s only friend.


Oh and as I watched him on that stage,


my hands were clenched in fits of rage.


No angle born in the depths of Hell


could deny Trump was under Satan’s spell.


The Constitution burned that night.


And Democracy took flight,


as Satan laughed with delight.


The day the Constitution died,


Trump was singing


Die, die Constitution die.


This’ll be the day that it died.

Don McLean: “American Pie”

“A president cannot defend a nation if he is not held accountable to its laws.”
― DaShanne Stokes







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The Title of this poem is at its bottom

Poems are just words in some order.

Some would say carefully arranged

words to rhyme or have some meaning.

“You think that I don’t even mean

a single word I say.

It’s only words, and words are all I have

to take your heart away.”

That’s a song by the Bee Gees.

An Australian band from down under.

Down under being the state of Australia.

Or is it Austria, no matter anyway

because they aren’t as great as our

good ole USA, we’re number 1.

Bee Gees, what kind of name is that?

Couldn’t it also be spelled with just a B & a G?

Then they could have added that comma

in the air thing and an s.

See what I did there with just a B & a G?

And when I say see, I don’t mean the letter C.

And when I say couldn’t it be,

why not just use the letter

B instead of  b and an e?

I like stand alone letters that convey a message.

My favorite is I because that means it’s about me.

And I, am my favorite topic.

The word isn’t is short for is not.

It only saves one letter in the word.

It hardly seems worth while

as it takes me longer to find

that comma in the sky thing,

than it would take me to find

the letter o on the keyboard.

The America language is really weird.

It’s a jumbling bastard of other languages.

You’ve got your Latinese, Roamnesque, Arabica

and Spanishese and it all makes for one mongrel.

And those Bee Gees talking about

taking your heart away stuff.

What are they, heart surgeons?

When did the heart become the symbol for love?

Why the hell not the kidneys?

Think of the great job they do.

Without them you’d be in a painful

bloated type state of affairs, no?

Using organs to represent love

other than the ones intended for love,

if you get my drift.

It is just too much.

Don’t you hate that we have a to and a too?

And by damn a number 2.

Saying t-o-o means also in addition.

It saves time to say too, instead of also in addition.

Saving time seems to be a big thing huh?

Time is a huge concept thing around the world.

It’s funny we can capture that huge thing.

Yep, and put it in a watch you can wear on your wrist.

Not an Apple watch. just an old timey watch.

Imagine being so strong as to carry

the weight of the world’s time on your wrist.

Or in the old western days, guys had pocket watches,

in their vest pocket on a fancy gold chain.

Those paisley silk vests weren’t they striking?

Just really stylish neat with a derby hat on also.

Sad people don’t dress like that anymore.

Don’t you all agree people dress like slobs today?

Hooded sweatshirts with the hoods up.

Who do these punks think they are?

They look like goofs wearing a sweatshirt

on a hot, hot hot day in July.

Speaking of slobs reminds me of something.

I saw someone holding a slobbering baby recently.

You don’t ever want to shake a baby’s hand.

Or you know put your index finger

into its tiny hand like you see

stupid numbskull people do.

Isn’t baby slobber the worst?

It’s orange, red or purple.

It depends on what veggie gruel

liquefied slimy slop baby food

some vicious cruel parent fed them.

Slop, sloppy, slob and slobber funny how similar

those description words are. Right?

I say make them one word like, slopbery.

I do like the word slippers though.

I like a word that conveys comfort.

Perhaps, because my parents weren’t comforting.

Of course, no one wants to slip and get hurt.

That makes me rethink calling

comfortable footwear slippers doesn’t it?

I wonder what woman those Bee Gees

were singing about taking the heart of.

I bet she was hot like some of those

Australianese bikini girls you see

pictured on bottles of tanning lotion.

Beaches are funny as they don’t tend

to have much grass at all,

even though there is all that water.

That girl is probably “More than a woman

to me (oh so much more).

More than a woman to me.”

I like those girls with heavy accents.

I feel sweaty but I don’t think

I have “Saturday Night Fever.”

I’m done writing this poem

and I want to end by saying

“Life goin’ nowhere, somebody help me

Somebody help me, yeah

Life goin’ nowhere, somebody help me

Somebody help me, yeah

I’m stayin’ alive.

Ah, ha, ha, ha stayin’ alive

Ah, ha, ha, ha stayin’ alive.”

Why can’t people see I’m begging?

begging for mental help?

Title: If Trump Wrote a Poem

Amy Rigby:“The President Can’t Read”

“The Trouble with Jeannie” 

“A hypocrite is the kind of politician who would cut down a redwood tree, then mount the stump and make a speech for conservation.” ~ Adlai Stevenson I

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