My Poetry

  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 ...

The sun has no mercy and the wind is grim. All it takes is a spark to light up the hillside. Birds explode from trees as fire crowns the ridge. Like a child doing cartwheels it bounds across the land. Firefighters climb with heavy gear yet flames  consume the other side to shut down the highway. Santa Ana carries embers to new tinder. Columns of smoke rise. Angry dragon clouds form breathing more fire. Louder than a furious freight train  it approaches.  Packing to evacuate is a game of Tetris. How do you jam your whole life into a car? Survival is an apocalyptic movie flames flank the race out of town. In less than thirty minutes history erased lives displaced businesses, homes childhoods up in smoke. Scattered bricks mangled metal and soot are all that remain. But through the ash friends and strangers  anonymous heroes reach out to make sure others don't have to experience this crisis alone. It's unthinkable catastrophes that bring out the best in humanity.

Ever since the election I'm walking under water breathing through a straw pushed down by all these red-hatted guppies. They follow the orange one who gushes bigotry and hate.   It makes me dizzy. The whole world has vertigo. We drown in information but starve for insight. Lost in all the headlines.   It's crazy crazy on a sliding scale from endless grifting to the "Lecter lectures" a pandemic of stupidity a hurricane of lies an insurrection an insurrection!   The next four years will be a wrecking ball. Just thinking about it makes my skull feel two sizes too small.   He will pulverize the foundation of our Democracy. It feels like my future is behind me.   Sometimes history rhymes sometimes it just repeats itself. Sometimes history rhymes sometimes it just repeats itself. Sometimes history rhymes sometimes it just repeats... itself.   Eight years later we are back at the beginning again.   I am pulling my hair out in frustration and resentment. This c...

  How fixed is my mind?   How many times a week do I see someone out the corner of my eye who moves like you? With the same hair line, the same brand of sunglasses, or driving the same kind of truck? How rigid is my brain? How many times  a day do I forget when I hear someone with the same baritone laugh, and I turn to greet you? How many times, will I deny that I touched your arm while you lied, unmoving in your coffin, and I expected your skin to feel hard, like a mannequin, but it wasn’t. It felt like you- only cold. And how frozen is my heart? How many times an hour, -a minute, will I be reminded of the fact that you are gone, and yet I am the one who is motionless?    

  The first time I was homeless was when I ran away at seventeen.   I never had to think about food or shelter, I just stuck out my thumb for seven months my shelter was the car or truck I was in people were nice enough to feed me. I was too dumb to be scared.   Yesterday, I got a letter in the mail, telling me that my name was near the top of the list for a low income apartment. I put my name on this list, NINE YEARS AGO!   Nine years ago when housing market was getting really tough. I was nearly 50 years old, disabled and my son was still in high school.   Nine years ago   After my divorce and my mom's death I knew I would lose the house I couldn't pay the mortgage on my own The bank would not even talk to me about lowering the payment because only mom's name was on the paperwork and she didn't leave a will. Nine years ago   I applied for the few apartments that were in my price range but so did dozens of others.   Did you know they charge 30 do...