Yeah, That’ll Work

Yeah, That’ll Work

You failed in
preparation? Then it’s time to
excel in execution!

–Tom Riley

Joe Done Fell Down Again

Joe Done Fell Down Again

Then down he fell, like Spenser’s fucking dragon—
or, actually, they weren’t that much the same.
The spirits of the monster were not flaggin’
when Redcrosse cast him down to win the game.
The serpent had a mind and knew his aim.
His wits retained their keenness through it all.
It was a real foe Redcrosse overcame.
Joe’s brain and heart, in contrast, always small,
had suffered from a tendency to stall
and shrunk down to a status microscopic.
His was an idiot’s unsightly fall.
No knight assailed him, while we’re on the topic.
Then again, both fell surely into Hell.
Joe’s an unholy mess — so down he fell.

–Tom Riley

Expert Predictions

Expert Predictions

“The Zelensky offensive will win!”
So our experts predict with a grin.
Their conviction sounds strong.
“Have we ever been wrong?
List the times!” I can’t even begin.

–Tom Riley

Techn-O-Kay

Techn-O-Kay

I’ve adjusted to modern technology.
I need offer no Luddite apology.
I am fine, digit-wise.
I reach virtual skies–
though that doesn’t quite fit my theology.

–Tom Riley

Perfect Looks

Perfect Looks

AI’s defined the pair with perfect looks.
And you and I, babe? We come pretty close.
Set aside all those ancient picture books!
AI’s defined the pair with perfect looks.
The new god has an old line: Fiat lux!
In this, at least, it hasn’t grown verbose.
AI’s defined the pair with perfect looks.
And you and I, babe, we come pretty close.

–Tom Riley

Zaluzhny’s Survival

Zaluzhny’s Survival

Is Zaluzhny deceased? We won’t say.
It’s an uncertain question today.
It’ll be so tonight.
Between hard black and white,
there is always sufficient cool gray.

–Tom Riley

Practiced Smirks

Practiced Smirks

The neo-cons still sport their practiced smirks–
but that’s a madness that will soon be ended.
History will undo their hateful works.
On Babel’s Tower proudly they ascended
and didn’t care if nations were offended.
Those weak and beaten nations were a joke.
Against the Beast all powers that contended
were useless. In their own gore they would soak.
Bite off too much, however, and you’ll choke.
If neo-cons are capable of learning,
they’re learning that. They’ll wear it like a cloak,
their failure. All their high-raised flags are burning.
The currency for which they turned to war,
they’ll soon see, isn’t current anymore.

–Tom Riley

Brave Zelensky Ran Away

Brave Zelensky Ran Away

Volodymyr’s the bravest of the brave.
When Russian missiles that do not exist
rain down on storied Kyiv, he makes the save
by fleeing somewhere else to shake his fist.
He doesn’t want to go, but hosts insist.
They need him as a guest. He’s so damn funny!
Of destinations, he maintains a list.
He is allergic — like a nose — and runny.
He’s not allergic, though, to Western money.
Bold as a lion, he secures his share
in foreign climes both miserable and sunny.
He doesn’t spare heroic efforts there.
When danger threatened, let the future say,
he didn’t freeze — but bravely ran away.

–Tom Riley

California Driving

California Driving

On 680 I’m
now headed south — just like
this fucking state.

–Tom Riley

Byrdwatching

Byrdwatching

Justice for Ashli Babbitt? Hey, not here–
where murderers of unarmed girls are lauded
on both sides of the aisle. Inspiring fear
in citizens who know they’ve been defrauded
is good for politicians, blue of course,
but also red: there’s not much clear distinction.
One group wails Satan’s slogans till it’s hoarse,
one sucks up ill-shed blood, but by intinction.
Yes, over here that bastard Michael Byrd
is in the clear and widely celebrated.
Amongst the ruling class, no wrath is stirred.
Instead, those who complain are fiercely hated.
But elsewhere in the world, Byrd, folks are pissed–
and Comrade Putin has you on his list.

–Tom Riley