902: The Hollow Man (Singular), Part the Last

(with apologies to T. S. Eliot)

ANOTHER WASTELAND (July 16) —

        V

Here we go round COVID-19

COVID-19 COVID-19

Here we go round COVID-19

Tweeting away in the morning

Without idea

Divorced from reality

Without a notion

Without tact

Falls Don Hollow

For His is The Empire 

Between constipation

And consternation

Between self-promotion

Irresponsibility

Falls Don Hollow

Too long has He lived 

Between His desires

And His spasm

Between His impotence

And His excrescence

Lies His essence

And His descent

Hail Don Hollow

For His is The Empire

For He is

Life is

For He is the

Is THIS the way the world ends

Is this the WAY the world ends

IS this the way the world ends

With Him banging a strumpet?

Monday: Part the First
Tuesday: Part II
Wednesday: Part III
Yesterday: Part IV

901: The Hollow Man (Singular), Part IV

(with apologies to T. S. Eliot)

ANOTHER WASTELAND (July 15) —

        IV

The “Ayes” are now there

The “Nays” nowhere

In this wallow of follow Tsars

In this swampy hollow

This broken law of freedom lost

In this the last Congress

Which ends forever

They declare Him divine

Then shameless, slither home  

Brainless, useless

They'll ne'er reappear

In Washington

In the Rose Garden

Of the gilded Gold House

These dead

Congressmen.

Monday: Part the First
Tuesday: Part II
Yesterday: Part III
Friday: Part the Last

900: The Hollow Man (Singular), Part III

(with apologies to T. S. Eliot)

ANOTHER WASTELAND (July 14) —

        III

This will be a dead land

This will be a sans land

Sans people, sans health

Sans even Trumpian pelf

The doings of his tiny hand

Undertaken, pawn of Russian Tsar

It is like this

In a devastated nation

Honor gone

At the end when we are

Defeated, downtrod

Virus crushed, market driven

By dimwit dunce undone.

Monday: Part the First
Yesterday: Part II
Tomorrow: Part IV
Friday: Part the Last

899: The Hollow Man (Singular), Part II

(with apologies to T. S. Eliot)

ANOTHER WASTELAND (July 13) —

        II

Eyes can not believe, can not conceive

The depths of degradation

That do appear

Their darkened skies,

Gloom-laden, broken spear

Their statues falling

An evil past appalling

Frivolous wind blown

More precious, forsaken

Ancestral voices calling.

His people share his fear

Incoming incarnation 

Of a nation near

Unrecognized, disguised

Long tie, false hair, crossed arms

Crotch protected

Fending off castration

Ever unrested

The final fleeting meeting

Of a fallen nation.

Yesterday: Part the First
Tomorrow: Part III
Thursday: Part IV
Friday: Part the Last

898: The Hollow Man (Singular), Part The First

(with apologies to T. S. Eliot)

ANOTHER WASTELAND (July 12) —

Mister T — he nuts.

A bucket for the Old Guy

           I

He is a hollow man

Though an overstuffed man

Leaning forward

Hairpiece made of straw. Alas!

His slurred speech rasps

He, greedy, grasps

Women, cash

Loud, lewd, crass

Truth runs scarce

A heluva fella

Orange, misshapen, ranting, raving,

posturing, waving, attention craving;

When he feels crossed

Revenge is swift, death certain

He must win — always — whatever cost

Without a soul only

A hollow, though

Overstuffed man.

Tomorrow: Part II
Wednesday: Part III
Thursday: Part IV
Friday: Part the Last