Bravo.
a,b,c,b
a,b,c,b
a,a,b,a
a,b,c,b
a,a,a,a
a,b,c,a
Yes, at last! the long awaited anarchic rhymer has arrived. Pay attention
boys and girls, you never know how the rhymes might flow.
On Thu, Nov 24, 2016 at 12:27 AM, david ritchie <profdritchie@xxxxxxxxx>
wrote:
On Nov 23, 2016, at 9:37 PM, Mike Geary <jejunejesuit.geary2@xxxxxxxxx>
wrote:
Well, I know why I have lost all my mirth. I fear very much for America.
And possibly for all of humanity.
I keep trying.
Trumpery
My defroster will not cope,
it fogs curiosity;
our world was never stranger,
sod markets and the bottle tree.
Old ghostly immigrants
haunt Ellis Island’s hall,
and tourists pay to see them;
who fear the trumpet’s call.
The temptation to strike our tents,
in anger or forbearance,
and file before that fence becomes,
a souvenir of Clearance.
They burn in Augustine,
they burn to make us lean,
Clinton’s multi-colored coat had sheen,
it’s beef in Abilene.
The Punic fleet by Rome was sunk,
for John Brown to have his podium.
The light that shines throughout our night
is neither salt nor sodium.
Stones across the water,
skim their youthful courses,
and circles mark where we have sunk,
the sword of liberal forces.
David Ritchie,
