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Martin Bailes Poem
America pretends today
that it didn't actually
put an unqualified
narcissistic bully
in the position
of the most
powerful man
in the whole known universe,
America pretends today
that somehow
this lying
two-faced con-man
can best represent
their interests
& actually givea damn,
America pretends today
that its o.k.
that the office
of the President
is now run by a
scamming tycoon
real-estate developer
whose claim to fame
is really just
his name,
America pretends today,
that mocking the broken,
denigrating tortured prisoners,
sexual-assault,
bigotry & racism
are all forgivable
in their newly
minted Chief,
America pretends today,
that this choice
is not a reflection
of the darkness
in its people,
of the false promise
of a Great America,
and the bitter poison
that is white folks
fear & dread.
America has another drink
& then
goes home.
(With thanks to the late great Francis Vincent Zappa)
Copyright © Martin Bailes | Year Posted 2017
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Martin Bailes Poem
The leopard ...
shining so brightly
as one of the earth's
truly
most truly ...
utterly beautiful
animal
creatures,
which here we see
held aloft,
stone dead,
after being hunted
by two of
the earth's
bravest ...
oh so brave
human beings,
the mighty ...
oh so mighty,
Trump
sons,
here smiling
& self-satisfied,
holding the body
for a picture,
this once living
breathing
& utterly
beautiful
creature,
a once radiant
but now dead
leopard.
Copyright © Martin Bailes | Year Posted 2017
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Martin Bailes Poem
Cousin Donald Comes to Town ...
Elroy was all cock-a-hoop cos
cousin Donald was a-comin'
a visiting & they were so darn
chuffed & tremblin' in anticipation
that friday night the seven of them
in the one bed had a real problem
actually sleeping.
Ma got out the best crockery
& had it laid out on the flag
hoisted down from the old
post by the front door &
Jebediah had just come back
from huntin' with some real
dandy lookin' coons.
As Eula was busy a-skinnin'
& all the clan was gatherin'
in their finest quilted smocks
& threadbare suits usually
kept for best & courtin' on
Saturday afternoons.
Cousin Donald's limousine
had a problem gettin' up
the windy road so Sam &
old Benjamin were carrying
him along in a sort-of-home-made
palanquin constructed from
pine poles and a large
crate that mama usually
reserved for storing the
winter jams & pickles,
All the boys started a-hollerin'
& a-whoopin' as Cousin
Donald turned the corner
& his loud Orange face
broke into a broad slightly
deranged grin for he knew
that the moment would soon
come when the shine would
flow & they'd get down to
some serious jigging &
fiddlin' but of course he'd
not be the fiddler on account
of his tiny fingers & innate
inability to be able to learn
one damn thing at all.
Cousin Donald restored in them
that pure American ideal of being
able to make it big in this world
& they all told themselves that
if Cousin Donald could do it they
could too meaning a golden
crapper & shiny brocaded
curtains & silver toothbrushes
& diamond watches & silk
drawers & leopard skin pill
box hats.
Oh Cousin Donald inspired them
just so oh yes he surely did & this
day would be re-told over camp
fires and cross-burnings for months
no, years to come,
... the day Cousin Donald came a
visiting.
Oh so blessed, blessed day
& thankyou Sweet Lord Jesus,
thankyou.
Copyright © Martin Bailes | Year Posted 2017
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Martin Bailes Poem
Donald found it quite the final & totally
last straw that little children were being
gassed & slaughtered horribly in Syria
& so sent over some missiles at $1 million
a pop but before doing so let the Russkies
& Assad know they were coming & even
then deliberately managed to avoid actually
hitting the runways which if you were not
aware are actually a vital component of a
runway & so today said airport is back in
operation,
so Donald was so deeply moved by dying
children that he put aside his refugee ban
& his muslim ban & his overseas aid cuts
& his previous dismissal of Obama's attempts
to act & sent off a few missiles but first let
the bad guys know they were coming.
Donald is moved,
oh yes indeed
so moved.
Copyright © Martin Bailes | Year Posted 2017
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Martin Bailes Poem
Would you rather the majestic pure white polar bear had a home
in this world or that Paul Ryan took a slow, slow boat to China & then
turned around & came back, & then again, & again?
... the humble Praying Mantis was able to bask in the sunshine
on a leaf of its choosing or that Trump was locked away for 70 years
in a dank & dismal people's cell?
... all the bees, & all the dainty flying creatures could buzz here & there as was their want or that Mitch 'Gruesome' McConnell was marooned
forever on a distant deserted isle?
... the startling life-form that is coral could take its own sweet time covering rocks & outcrops & undersea crags or that Mike Pence quite suddenly & terminally lost his ability to function in any way whatsoever?
... the soon-to-be starved nomadic people, the soon-to-be flooded
coastal peoples & the soon-to-be parched farmers of India were to be
given direct financial & physical assistance by expropriated & toiling Masters of Industry & sundry media lackeys?
... that the delicate flowers, the tall & mighty trees, the vital green, green grass could just a go on going on, & anyone, anyone at all who ticked that box declaring Climate Change a hoax be pitilessly overseen constructing vital networks of deep, deep canals, oh for the remainder of their natural life?
... Would you rather one less Republican politician or one less soaring
& majestic wind-tumbling vulture?
... Would you rather ...
Copyright © Martin Bailes | Year Posted 2017
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Martin Bailes Poem
I've wrestled great whites,
plucked tail feathers
from swooping eagles,
stared down a Sumatran tiger,
laughed at black bears,
& with one punch
decked an angry hippo,
caressed to exhaustion
writhing boas,
pleased to punch
deadly black widows,
& overcome with smiles
protective lion mothers,
to spend the next four years
facing off
with that
deluded idiot-child
the great orange one,
will be
an
utter
breeze.
Copyright © Martin Bailes | Year Posted 2017
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Martin Bailes Poem
Suddenly!
Suddenly when brushing my teeth
walking the dog,
bending down
to pick up trash,
it hits me
all over again,
"He's! the President."
It sneaks up on me sometimes
when dozing,
or gazing
lazily
out the window,
buttering toast,
tying laces,
"He's! the President."
At moments of stillness
warmth & some
supposed secure
sweet sweet happiness,
I'll be jolted right back,
like on a bunjee-cord
kinda ...
pulled right back
to that awful,
truly awful
realization,
"Good God!
He's! the President!"
Copyright © Martin Bailes | Year Posted 2017
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Martin Bailes Poem
If Earth First are still with us anymore
& they have some sort of ultra-militant
underground band of dedicated & utterly
uncompromising soldiers ready to defend
their mother earth at the drop of a hat &
of course after some careful preparation
could they please just get on with it before
its too late & carry this man off to a dingy
basement where he can watch re-runs
of This Living Planet while in-between-times
peasant farmers & fishermen directly affected
by rising sea levels as we speak come before
him to tell their tales & weep.
Copyright © Martin Bailes | Year Posted 2017
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Martin Bailes Poem
I'd like them all
each & every one
down to the last
smug,
self-satisfied,
smart,
oh-so-smart
deniers,
lined up,
arm in arm,
just standing there
waiting ...
at the sea-shore,
& planting
tiny sticks
with flags
representing the
yet to be born
whose families
will find
their villages,
their homes,
their whole history
& livelihood
gone ...
under water,
gone.
I'd make them all
spend day
after day
constructing walls
with grains of sand
to stem the tide,
& I'd like a few
of the most
powerful ones
to simply, really,
just
stay there,
as the tide rolled in
& the waves washed the shore.
Deniers ...
may somehow
you just
be there
RIGHT
when
it happens.
Copyright © Martin Bailes | Year Posted 2017
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Martin Bailes Poem
The Great Negotiator
likes to play golf actually
likes to play a lot of golf
even though he touted
from the podium that he'd
be too busy to play golf
unlike that lazy Obama
who couldn't get enough
golf time it appeared didn't it
& The Great Negotiator has
visited his golf clubs 13 times
in 100 days but his staff
like to kind of not talk about
it too much really,
it actually being kind of a
sensitive topic,
& the Master Deal Maker
would be winning so much
you'd be tired of him winning
& then maybe just perhaps
he might find time for a round
of golf in between the many
deals he'd be pulling off
left right & centre & winning,
winning, winning in his first
100 days as the Great Negotiator
who could make a deal & get
things done,
& all that other stuff he endlessly
spouted forth in that vapid earnest
New York deal making whisper of his,
oh yes ... The Great Negotiator.
Copyright © Martin Bailes | Year Posted 2017
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