Subtle Journalistic Yawn

The nuanced global metrosexuality
of the NYT,
the progressive patrician narcissism
of New Yorker,
The dark democratic dying
of the Washington Post,
the salty smugness
of Atlantic,
the effete unstrung irrelevance
of Harper’s
Newsweek, Time,
even Life itself:

These are passing away.

 


PROMPT #7
a poem based on a news article

Ten More Hello Poetry Hits

I recently posted my Top-Ten smash hits from Hello Poetry

Here are my next ten most-read hits from the website.
Number 3 (…Airbags) had stanzas printed in August 2016 New Yorker mag!

They start at 7K views (Fake News . . . ) but drop off fast to 4K (Autumn Festival).

Y’all come on over and boost my stats, hear?

  1. Fake News Wets Bed

  2. Owed to a Caulk Gun

  3. Dual Airbags

  4. Christ Massed

  5. Ω Gothic Postcard Ω

  6. Santería

  7. Selection of Sex and Descent in Relation to Man

  8. Take a Tip

  9. Licked, Stamped, Undelivered

  10. Autumn Festival: Lotus Seed

I Made the New Yorker TWICE!

No joke. I am elated.

I only found out today.
From the August 29 article
Donald Trump, Poetic Muse:

While some poets are tentatively positive (“Call me a chump / But I’m with Trump”), the vast majority register negative reactions to Trump and his candidacy. These include shock (“Today I woke up and smoked / A cigarette of something illegal / And I freaked out / Because / Donald Trump is running for president”); scatological disdain (“Trump dumped on his rump / Hair lumped in a clump”); determined opposition (“We must now thwart the hatred”); escapism (“If Trump wins / I’m moving to Iceland / While he wreaks havoc on the states / I’ll be in Reykjavik eating steak”); and cleverly rhymed condescension (“The mallard was rebuked by Mitt; / adversaries began to bray. / The ducklings murmured: guy’s unfit / to be elected anyway”). 

The article continues, and quoted me again here:

Not all the poems about the Presidential candidates pick a side.
One, called “Dual Airbags,” simply bemoans the choice at hand:
“It’s a bitter pill (more like pilloried) / So shall we now be Trumped or Hillary-ed?”

The first poem was from that period when Trump was attacking Cruz and Rubio:

🎼Música Cubana ♪ ♬

Donald quacks. We better duck.
Tell the Cubans to mute that trumpet
While we, together, improve our luck
(or end up ruled by a Socialist Strumpet.)

The mallard was rebuked by Mitt;
adversaries began to bray.
The ducklings murmured: guy’s unfit
to be elected anyway...

The second was written later, as I tried to decide, and lyrically deride, my electoral suicide:

 Dual Airbags

Give him a skinhead, insignia, boots

Less scruples, a swagger-stick, crowds, money.

No black shirts visible. Just business suits,

and pride is restored: tragic but funny.

Proud like a skyscraper, godless as sin

Babylonian promises, towering lies

Reality shows when plutocrats win,

Their rhetoric raining from empty skies.

She-wolves, elected by uninformed sheep

behave predictably, eyeing the flock

Their wool (and the lamb-chops) are hers to keep

Grazing voter—this should come as no shock.

It’s a bitter pill (more like pilloried)

So shall we now be Trumped or Hillary-ed?

Hilarioustrumpet

Both poem quotes were taken from my Hello Poetry site.