The Washington Nats
at the White House
acted like kiss-up-brats

in their MAGA political hats.
At least there were a few
who boycotted the bash

And their integrity lasts
long after the Occupant is
gone with all the MAGA hats.

Bills upon bills upon bills are sent from the
House to the Senate and the Senate majority
leader refuses to bring them before the Senate.

He spends all his time reshaping the Judiciary
so the privileged, rich and powerful remain
privileged, rich and powerful and some swing

voter in Youngstown, Ohio says that the House
should drop this impeachment stuff which is
taking up so much time and the House should

start doing the work that will benefit the country
and he says he is going to vote for Trump again.
Okay, what is it going to take — every Democratic

US House member shouting from the roof of the
House, “Look, look, look, we’ve sent bill after bill
after bill only to be buried by Moscow Mitch”?

“Makin’ Tons of Money” Mitch the Turtle crawls
into his shell until it is safe to crawl back out and
mumbles “Quid Pro Quo is a no show. Go, Trump, Go!”

She’s afraid of the little things,
like the little pings and dings
but not the big things,
like death’s sting.
“Why?” she wonders.
Does she just blunder
on through dangers
that roar and thunder?
Is it because death
has been, more or less,
a constant companion
in this game of chess —
a sudden devastating eruption?
Has it been her guide
through this bumpy, earthly ride?
Tell it like it is
and let the chips….
Possibly.
But perhaps not just cliched quips,
perhaps a certain confidence
that love lasts
beyond the grave
and that integrity now
is what others see as foolish
or maybe brave,
but which for her,
simply, is the way
that she is made.

I railed against him.
He opened the car door
and his dog, a young,
playful Vizsla charged
my Chocolate Lab
on a leash. I held on
tight. “Hey, your
dog is upsetting my
dog and there is a
leash law.” “That’s
your dog’s problem,”
he said and just kept
moving on down the
trail. And so I railed
against him.

I railed against him.
The guy behind me
inline asked if I were
inline and then told
me, bruskly, to move up so
some cashier somewhere
would see me and
wait on me so the
guy behind me could then
be waited on. I let him
go ahead of me. He
went to the counter
and no cashier appeared.
I told him maybe he
was invisible and that
I actually hoped that
he was because he
was a rude, obnoxious
slob. I railed against
him.

And what has it gotten
me? Bad memories and
elevated blood pressure.

So, maybe it’s time
for me to shut up
before I get killed,
reflecting on it from the
viewpoint of enlightened
self-interest.

And even better, maybe
it’s time to look at the
Christ within each obnoxious,
rude Neanderthal and
suffer fools gladly —
including myself.

In Botswana, we all got our start
scientific anthropologists tell us.
Now, we can put the 200,000-year-old horse before the cart.
To farthest places on the face of the earth
they traced a strand of DNA finding
we are all the same in original birth.
Differences in altitude and how
close to the sun we’ve been
account for such inconsequential things as
width of the nose and tone of the skin.
So before it’s too late
and, in fear, we destroy each other without mercy,
let’s all embrace and celebrate
our oneness in diversity.

* https://www.nst.com.my/world/world/2019/10/533965/where-did-humans-come-botswana
and https://www.inverse.com/article/60470-hometown-for-humanity?utm_source=pocket-newtab.

We blow up one
And say, “It’s done.”
The ones
Behind the “blown-up” one
Say, “It’s not done.”

Words represent something
behind the words.

Behind has multiple meanings
behind the word behind — other words.

It’s complicated beyond complication —
all those words heard.

Meaning could be
as simple as a parable,
But still, not everyone hears
and not everyone sees.

You could just say
in the beginning was the word

and sit back
(which also has many meanings, you see)
and bask
in the mystery.

He saw an ad for senior helpers, those helping
(well, they only showed) old, white people.

And there were the helpers helping old, white
people downstairs, into chairs, giving hugs,

laughing at old, white peoples’ put-on mugs.
And who were these young helpers of seniors?

They were the young ‘uns Jesus loves — red,
black, brown, yellow — they are precious in his

sight. Yes, Jesus loves the little children of
the world — even old, white ones.

They came up with the great,
political campaign promotion

of selling plastic straws with
the candidate’s name on them.

Now, not only will elephants
be voting for their candidate,

but whales, porpoises and
tortoises can decide, also.

He and his wife entertained a good friend as a
house guest and during one of their wonderful
chats, the host likened his own mother, in a some-
what facetious way, to the star of the movie and
book Mommy Dearest. He said, “The infamous
Jane Crawford.” His guest, with furrowed brow, said,
“June Crawford. I think maybe June not Jane.” The
host then said, “No, I think June Crawford was the
loving mother on Lassie. She was such a nice
person.” His friend said, “Yes, Jane not June.” In the
morning following breakfast, the friend took off to
continue his road trip. After hugs and an affectionate
farewell, the host sat repeating the names — Jane,
June, Jane, June. “Wait,” he exclaimed, “Not Jane or
June, but JOAN! Yes, Joan Crawford.” Then he looked
up the old TV show Lassie on his computer and saw
big and bold, right in front of his eyes — June Lockhart,
not June Crawford. The host thought about calling his
good friend but his friend would be on the road. He’ll
just send him an e-mail if he could only remember his
friend’s e-mail address.