Flammeus Gladius

Carmina et Verba pro Discipulis Meis

At the Microbrewery

At the Microbrewery

 

“Savor nuances as they appear
And then fade like a goddess’s tear!
Seize the flavor — and say
You’re in Heaven today!
What’s your answer?” Oh, well, it’s a beer.

 

—Tom Riley

Noncommittal

Noncommittal

 

The righteous Moser now composes prayers.
He is a satirist we must admire.
At Donald Trump’s deficiencies he stares—
Then utters forth ferocious lines of fire
While strumming on a cool stylistic lyre.
Amongst the vast Resistance, he’s the best—
And of his genius we can never tire.
Or anyhow, that’s how he sees his quest.
It can’t be my place, people, to suggest
That Moser is as bright as swamp-soaked shit,
That, in the role of critic, he’s a pest
And furthermore a fucking hypocrite.
Therefore, that’s something I decline to do.
I leave such damning judgments up to you.

 

—Tom Riley

 

(Paul Moser, Napa’s Leader of the Resistance, composes a prayer.)

And the Winner Is…

And the Winner Is…

 

Right in Kaepernick’s vain category
Players fall — and are backed, same old story,
By a lame NFL.
The result, folks? Oh, hell!
Donald Trump is left holding Old Glory.

 

—Tom Riley