Annus Terribilis or 2017: His First Year in Office

Spawn’d down some dank
Janitorial drain,
embolden’d by bogeymen
Febrile and jumpy,
besmirch’d by the
Marks of the murderer Cain, 
he howls to who'll hear:
"Apres moi, l'Oncle Grumpy."* 
Fowl fluids -- bilge,
Mayonnaise -- flow from twinn’d heads.
To Darwinian laws of the
Jungle he hews
as opponents he
Juliennes, minces 'n' shreds.
His ascendency
Augurs an age of fake news.
It’s severe civil
Sepsis I'm worried about.
Still, should dirges in
Octaves be suffer’d to swell...?
Wa-a-a-a-ay too late for
Novenas; our time's running out:
Ple-e-e-ease! Abort this in-
Decent descent into hell.
     * Though the identity of l’Oncle Grumpy 
remains a mystery, VP Mike Pence seems
the likeliest candidate to assume it.

Five Ws & an H

     “Who do
you few eschew,” muses
Brian Boru. “
     Can one
pander to Gandhi, not
Pandit Nehru…?”

   “What a
slut…so much smut! Nut case --
open-and-shut,” 
     ‘tut!’s Judge
Jeff to Judge Mutt. “But...she
sure does strut, what!”

   “When zen'd
men again pen 'em like
Jean La Fontaine's,” 
     ventures
Alfred Lord Tenn-, “...then I'll 
tender ‘Amen!’s”

     “Where-so-
e’er, fair-haired br’er,” declares
Robespierre,” 
     we dare
bare les derr'erres, we’ll peel
‘ready-to-wear’!”

     “Why de-
cry my dry eye…?” sighs a
fly Buddy Guy, 
     when men
libel his tie. “No vox
populi, I.”

     “How’ll I
“Ciao!” Kung Pao Cow…?” howls a
foul Chairman Mao 
     as a
scowl prowls his brow and he
zips down his trou-. 
     "What al-
lows the Great Tao: a kow-
tow…? Or a bow, 
     now I’ve
left it to Beaver…? What
ails Tony Dow…?”