Short Botching Poems

My stomach hurts
My ears are ringing
I belt, in bursts 
Obnoxious singing

I can’t say why
Or if it helps
I can’t just cry
And lose myself

My kids are watching
Many others too
My life, I’m botching
Must hide it from you

I can’t be real
For, if I am
The layers peel
I’m just a sham

My shaking knees
And itchy wrists
I can’t be free
If I exist...

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once the dolt's brain bolts, chaotic codes find no way to fade
once the dolt's tongue bolts, the Pentagon owes him a parade
what sort actually matches his review? toads croaking in the shower shade
and only those shape the true imagery of how he and his henchmen wade
under Mueller's investigation, against which they've tried every shabby charade
charade, charade, the botching of which is the dolt's lifetime trade...

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Sing me here an old-timey hymn
Like “Amazing Grace” or “Jesus Saves,”
Sing it lustily before my bier,
Nothing overly sad, morose, or grim
My funereal may elicit some raves
But I prefer that to the maudlin tear;
Please remember, I shall be watching.
Not appreciating unnecessary waves,
I shall be very happy that I am here
In Paradise, no more frivolous botching,
                                Sing me here!

Written June 6, 2022...

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