Untitled #206

As the Orange One leads us to war,
America’s image now a far,
far,
FAR CRY from normalcy,

If Wayne Barrett,
who warned us about the banality of evil that is Herr Trump,
Were alive today,
He say:

“See, I told you he was a moron!”

© Gregory J. Broderick 2017

How Deep Is Your Love (Really?)

How deep is your love,
Does it grow amongst the sands of time,
Does it match the rhyme,
and the melodious rhythm,
Of your feelings towards one another?

Just how deep,
How deep,
Is your love?

Can you answer with a certainty,
Never questioning how this could be,
That you truly got lucky,
And found the one who feels the same way you do?

Can you answer knowing,
That feeling in your heart absolutely glowing,
That you never have to run,
Hiding your sorrows in a House of Pervy fun,
The skinny manic stripper giving you something you can’t get at home with the one you love?

And can you answer knowing that as long as crows crow,
And the world keeps spinning,
That as time passes,
Your willing to grow with the one you love,
Never dumping him or her,
Trading them in for someone younger?

© Gregory J. Broderick 2017

Truism #1

​Those who rule for gain,
Will never maintain,
Their hold on the masses,
Only to be tossed on their asses,
Once the masses have had enough,
Sick of being dead broke and naked,
Wishing they had just enough

© Gregory J. Broderick 2017

Son of Roy Cohn

​Roy Cohn never had kids,
No successors,
No heirs,
To inherit his rich legacy of conning others,
Except for Donald Trump

Had Roy Cohn not died,
His liver having fried,
From the effects of AZT and AIDS,
He’d look from beyond,
Only to ponder

How lucky he was,
To have an apt pupil,
As close as you can to a son,
In Donald J. Trump

© Gregory J. Broderick 2017

We “Snowflakes” Warned Ya

The rest of America,
The America we look at and yawn at,
Elected an asshat,
Yet that moniker doesn’t quite fit

What the rest of America did,
Was elect a man,
Who kept his hands on the lid,
Of the best open secret ever,
The ones New Yorkers long long knew

We elected a con,
A cheat,
A man not quite bright but fast on his feet,
A man who cheat others,
Only to benefit himself

We progressives,
Snowflakes,
Social Justice Warriors,
Knew of the horrors,
Attached to that orange mained man

And sure enough,
The minute he took office,
He says one thing,
And as we liberals bicker with conservatives,
Blaming each other for being the cause of the fall of America,
He’s figuring out how to grab more bling,
Hoping you’ll never catch on

© Gregory J. Broderick 2017

Midnight Observations (11/20/2009)

I don’t care why the caged bird sang,
I don’t care about Ms. Thang,
That blonde little twink I proper fucked the night before

Staring into the night sky thereafter,
The best chapter,
The one that consisted of lunches at Pastis,
Drinks at the Helmsley Bar,
Trips to Woodbury Commons by private car,
Ended long ago

Markets crashed,
My standing arraignment with the boys from Lehman evaporated overnight,
Capital flight,
The ones who paid for me to bring them from A to B in benjamins,
Drowning their sorrows in booze,
The women dancing above them a definition in loose

As I stood walking from midtown,
I swore the frown,
Permanently etched on my face,
Would never go away,
Praying for that moment of grace,
The one that me to driving a pedicab,
And earning a solid living,
Would show its face once again

© Gregory J. Broderick 2017