Whacked

Whacked

Yes, the rat will get whacked. It’s a sick
Prison milieu that misses that trick.
Michael Cohen will pay.
That’s what all experts say.
Let us hope it’s not easy and quick!

–Tom Riley

(Gambino heir predicts Cohen assassination.)

Cohen Confinement

Cohen Confinement

In the Joint, he’ll be known certainly
As a snitch. How could cons disagree?
Tortures then will ensue
As they typically do.
Few have been more deserving than he.

–Tom Riley

(RNC wishes Michael Cohen “fun in prison.”)

Funny Man

Funny Man

Colbert’s funny – or so it appears.
Some fans laugh so damn hard they shed tears.
Must the show go on? Let it.
I myself just don’t get it—
Though I will say he has funny ears.

–Tom Riley

Triggered

Triggered

Nate was triggered, you must understand.
The most triggering hat in the land
Made the red man see red.
“Me want palefaces dead!”
We must all blame the vile MAGA brand.

–Tom Riley

Reptile Eloquence

Reptile Eloquence

If a snake, like a parrot, could speak,
Tell me then: how would Eve’s daughters shriek?
What? You say that one did?
Of those coils we are rid—
Though the spirit lives on, not unique.

–Tom Riley

Stoic Lover

The Stoic Lover

Souls by their bodies borne away
Might never meet again.
That’s something that I had to say
Before I said amen.

–Tom Riley

Facebook Battles

Facebook Battles

Facebook battles it’s wise to avoid.
Though you start the fight simply annoyed,
It could soon drive you mad—
And all madness is bad.
Plus, the victory’s never enjoyed.

–Tom Riley

No Offense

No Offense

In your words do I find an affront?
Am I subtle – and you maybe blunt?
Does your voice make me tense?
Not in any real sense:
I just recognize you as a cunt.

–Tom Riley

Blackbird Ignoramus

Blackbird Ignoramus

A raven hidden in a flock of crows—
A “murder,” as the most affected say?
You will not see that, lad, by night or day.
You haven’t studied ravens, and it shows.

–Tom Riley

Hate Poem of a Hatemonger

Hate Poem of a Hatemonger

They told me hate was bad, but, when I tried
To fudge the evil, then my heart rebelled.
I felt the conflict, and aloud I cried.
Around my indecision, voices swelled.
One said that, if at last the cat were belled,
The murder of the mice could go unmentioned.
One rose to contradict, and boldly held
That such vague smiles, however well-intentioned,
Were evil’s slaves, employed and richly-pensioned
By what had done the murders from the first.
Custom snarled at my left hand, ill-conventioned.
My sense of justice threatened it might burst.
But now my troubled soul no longer aches.
I’m smiling. I’ve erected many stakes.

–Tom Riley