My Poetry

  I was watching videos on youtube when I came across one about Dr. Oz. You know, the tv snakeoil salesman who is now the Administrator for the Centers for Medicare & Medicaid Services.   In the video, Oz said that in order to receive health care people will have to prove they matter.   My blood boils a kettle left screaming “Prove you matter!” he decrees As if my pulse, my breath, my bones Aren’t stitched with stardust A constellation of survival.   Fists clenched like storm clouds each scar on my skin a map of battles fought yet I must audition for my own existence!   My worth isn’t a ledger no balance sheet for bureaucrats to tally. I raised children their laughter a wildfire I kindled each bandaged knee, a hymn to life.   Now that my lungs rattle like rusted gates I’m told to dance for healthcare’s crumbs. Every soul is a furnace we burn bright no permission needed.   A janitor’s calloused hands are a cathedral of labor. A homeless man's eyes a...

Taco Trump In the neon-spangled circus  of American dreams Donald Trump struts like a peacock feathers, spray painted gold they glint under his spot light. They call him TACO now Trump Always Chickens Out a moniker that sticks like  hot sauce on polyester. Picture him, bellowing atop a Mar-a-Lago balcony he proclaims tariffs like Zeus hurls thunderbolts each promise a sizzling fajita of bravado only to fizzle out and leave markets to hiccup and investors to chase the mirage of his resolve a coyote chasing a roadrunner that always vanishes in a puff of cartoon dust.   His podium is a taco truck  parked crookedly on Pennsylvania Avenue.  Its menu board scrawled with threats: “25% tariffs on Canada! 10% on China!” But the grill stays cold  the nachos bare as he retreats  a matador dodging his own bullshit leaves Wall Street to dance a jittery salsa to the tune of his indecision.   Oh, great captain of the MAGA seas he navigates like Odysseu...

Tariff winds howl through rusted factory towns a tax on breath a toll on bones.   We're choking on layoffs while the orange king grins his hands greasy with promises palms up for the next grift.   They call it "protection" but it’s a padlock on the pantry. Vegetables rot in fields truck beds sit empty.   Walmart prices skyrocket with Made-Anywhere-But-Here labels. Trump slaps a price tag on the country says it’s winning but paychecks are a ghost that haunt last month’s rent.   Up in the penthouse, Elon laughs in emojis, Vance preens for the screen his suit stitched with our tax dollars.   They’re carving the eagle into a vulture feathers plucked for the Heritage Foundation's nest egg.   Democracy is a yard sale— cheap, chipped, sold to the loudest bidder.   The news is a slot machine that spins headlines and lies. Jackpot for the red hats who cheer the clatter.   Tariffs on, tariffs off— a light switch for chaos. Stocks jitter like a caffeine fien...

  Good afternoon children I am so happy to be here for story hour.   Today, I am going to recite to you from the book of Trump's Fairytales.   Once upon a time Trump inherited a Goldilocks economy from Biden but decided to play reverse Robin Hood he's robbing from the poor and giving to the rich through  tax cuts and tariffs.   The Dow tripped over his tariffs plunged down a rabbit hole and bonked its head all the way to Wonderland.   Mad as a hatter Trump tears at the economy leaving only crumbs for Hansel and Gretel.   The recession president Should have asked Geppetto to assemble his cabinet.   Trump appointed a pro-measles Secretary of Health who would trade the magic beans for a plague a Secretary of Education who shuttered the schoolhouse doors a National Security Advisor who doesn't know how to secure and a defensive Secretary of Defense.   But they are transparent as a glass slipper all their secrets spilled online passwords scribbled...

You slink through Sunnydale’s shadows a peroxide ghost with a smirk that cuts like a switchblade. Your leather duster flaps like bat wings and I’m caught, moth-hearted I flutter toward your flame of chaos.   It’s not just the cheekbones sharp enough to carve my name into the night. It’s the way you snarl love like a curse, spit poetry in a Cockney growl, and make redemption look like a bar fight you might win.   You’re a vampire, sure, but not the brooding kind who journals in the dark. You’re a punk anthem, all rage and glitter You smash bottles against the Hellmouth just to hear the glass sing.   I see you, William, beneath the fangs the poet who bled sonnets for Drusilla now bleeds for Buffy your heart a bruised fist pounds against a soul you swear you don’t have. I want to trace the scars you hide under that swagger to whisper my own secrets into your cigarette smoke.   You’re not safe, and I don’t care. You’re a walking paradox a monster who loves too hard a vil...

  As a trucker this entire country was my home. But I don't recognize my home anymore. Hatred has spread from shore to shore it hasn't been this divided since the civil war. Trump wants to add a maple leaf to our flag. He wants to take the Panama Canal because why stop at controlling birth canals right?   We should change the word "school" to "uterus." Then maybe lawmakers will care about the children dying inside them.   Trump wants to buy Greenland and call it Red, White and Blue Land but he has dollar signs in his eyes.   With Trump and his billionaire vultures picking our pockets clean this country is no longer the Red, White and Blue it's the red, white and green.   He crams the Gulf of America down our throats and tells us he is turning Gaza into the Riviera of the Middle East.   He jingles his keys over here to distract us from what they're doing over there -----> Dismantling Democracy amputating the wings of the American eagle.   He's ...