Olfactory Overload

Olfactory Overload

 

Amy Klobuchar’s out of the race
To be sniffed at a much-increased pace.
Now the Creepster’s main sniff
Must be darker – as if
Joe could see, as he sniffed, skin or face.

 

–Tom Riley

 

 

(Klobuchar withdraws from consideration as Biden’s VP.)

Whoa, Nellie!

Whoa, Nellie!

 

Gorsuch hastens to crazy extremes
To fulfill leftist wishes and dreams.
Gramps transitions to Granny.
Every man is a tranny.
Neil has just become Nellie, it seems.

 

–Tom Riley

 

Wasteline

Wasteline

 

“Throwing away food is like stealing from the tables of the poor.”

 

–Pope Francis I.

 

Wasting food is like stealing from the poor,
His Holiness informs us – and he’s right
To some extent. I heartily abhor
The waste of food. It makes me want to fight.
Who wastes more food, however, day and night,
Than Mark P. Shea, who stuffs it in his face
And stores it on his paunch and ass, despite
The starving multitudes? What a disgrace!
The calories that settle into place
Visibly on his soft, expanding frame
Could have fed members of the human race.
For shame, you stumbling, belching mass! For shame!
Admonish him. He’ll stuff in more and more.
Hypocrite Shea is stealing from the poor!

 

–Tom Riley

 

 

(Note: An earlier version of this sonnet rhymed “poor” according to its more formal pronunciation – with “endure” in one case and with “secure” in another. I adjudged the result as too Oxbridge in tone, as if it were being recited through the wretched teeth of John Oliver. So I revised for the sake of us all. T.R.)

The Browner, the Better

The Browner, the Better

 

Don’t confuse the Supreme Court with facts!
Don’t expect that mere logic’s attacks
Will achieve penetration!
Tasked with clear arbitration,
Justice Roberts will lick leftist cracks.

 

–Tom Riley

 

Guy in the Ferrous Face-Covering

The Guy in the Ferrous Face-Covering

 

(for Tim Stoll)

 

Old classic tales must now be set aside,
Replaced by tales with greater relevance.
Thus, in response to up-to-date events,
I hammer out a tale transmogrified.
An unknown figure regularly spied:
On moonlit nights, he walks the battlements.
The mystery goes ever more immense.
Why? It’s because he has a lot to hide!
His face is covered with an iron shield—
A mask whose tendency is to inspire us
With puzzlement and dread that can’t be healed
Until we know the truth. Yes, we’re desirous
Of facts about the guy with face concealed!
Big let-down, though: he’s hiding from a virus.

 

–Tom Riley

 

Sullivan’s Supper

Sullivan’s Supper

 

Fecal matter he piled on the plate
For Flynn’s supper. He just couldn’t wait
To see Flynn forced to eat.
Preparation’s complete—
And to eat is the judge’s own fate.

 

–Tom Riley

 

 

 

Warmonger’s Revenge

Warmonger’s Revenge

 

Trump did not want to wage four world wars.
Bellowed John Bolton: “No one ignores
My insane urge to fight!
I’ll get even, all right!”
He got help from some media whores.

 

–Tom Riley

Overgrown

Overgrown

 

Bolton claims that Trump isn’t all there—
That of Finland he isn’t aware
As a state of its own.
Bolton, though, hasn’t known
A mustache from extreme pubic hair.

 

–Tom Riley

 

 

(N.B. Bolton claims Trump doesn’t know Finland from Russia – an implausible claim, given that Trump ran the Miss Universe pageant, and that Miss Finland once charged that Trump grabbed her excellent ass.)

The Walrus Is John

The Walrus Is John

 
“I am the walrus, goo goo g’joob.”

 

–The Beatles

 
Another book of shocking revelations—
This one from John, who always wanted war.
No longer are there any innovations
In Anti-Trump-Land. From the same old store
Of flat clichés, the latest has-been whore
Bodies forth stuff to feed the generator
Of media resistance. More and more,
We feel we’ve heard it and will hear it later.
Yes, every traitor whines that Trump’s a traitor,
And every bonehead shrieks that Trump’s a fool.
The crowd hates Trump – because, well, Trump’s a hater!
Decrying Trump is terminally cool.
With publication let us go ahead.
Goo goo g’joob. Paul wasn’t really dead.

 
–Tom Riley

 

 

(Note:  Like most people, I thought the Beatles sang “koo koo kachu.”  But the written lyrics say “goo goo g’joob,” so “goo goo g’joob” it is!)

Chorister

Chorister

 
The chorus of aloof denunciation
You’re proud to join. Your notes do not ring true.
The echoes labor on without cessation.
The chorus of aloof denunciation
Is nothing but elitist obfuscation.
I see how zealously you take your cue.
The chorus of aloof denunciation
You’re proud to join. Your notes do not ring true.

 
–Tom Riley