Posted in social commentary, Writing for healing

Midterm Espresso

Just a spoof. Views expressed by the poet are not meant to be taken seriously.



In the past, say the 1950’s or 60’s

Advertisers and politicians could not name the competition.

Colgate would not say Crest without threat of perdition.

Dems, GOPS, Independents held their tongues during such decades

While covert cronyism lurked in clandestine arcades.


Now words fly freely, blatant in the hallways

It’s a slay-fest of mudslinging, name-calling always.

Aligned with outright lies and slander,

They scheme and scam and then gerrymander.


One candidate against the other,

Brother against brother, a cousin, a mother,

The put-downs, the raging, the dissing and hissing,

Implications be damned,

Another one slammed,

It’s all part of the race,

This is the age of in your face.


Inferences and jokes in commercials cause adults to bully,

And children imitate behaviors like wheels on a pulley.

Gone-viral child prodigies are held up like trophies,

Men in Congress take pictures of their private selfies.

After a gut wrenching episode and a high school shooting,

The air media  money-makers  have images of looting.


It’s all a jaunt to the bank by monsters in profit glory,

Their disguises grotesque and more than gory.

They sell a scathing punch below the belt,

With giggly wordporn, the raunch factor felt.

Trending or viral, nothing is sacred,

You made your money so lie in the bed.


Amendments 1 & 2 say it all, my dear friend,

You can shoot at anyone, anytime ‘til the bitter end.

To shock, to maim, to have not compromised,

Is the here and now in 2014, we are nevertheless wise.


Gomorrah meets Babylon meets Toledo.

We’re continuing to fight ‘round the globe, advance the torpedo.

Another shock value host goes over the hill, a has-been,

Replaced by the ink factor moguls and your cousin in Austin.


There’s a funny going around Facebook

That if the President supported air,

That GOPS would stop breathing just about everywhere.

Don’t get me wrong; I’m  only the reporter,

I am a simple old-fashioned sport like brick and mortar.


The nurse who tested negative for Ebola had to fight two governors

And the talking heads were oh so impressed, did you hear?

The men were so jazzed, fancy attorneys, you know,

They loved her feminine power, they wanted her show.

They coveted her ratings, cherished her prize,

It wasn’t her health that mattered, just politics in their eyes.


Back to elections, to tatters and ratings;

The passive aggressive, gathering and baiting,

Did you know candidate X, Y, and Z are aligned with foreign haters?

They are made out to be as mean as swamp alligators.

We don’t want workers to make more money,

We want to despise them, their families, and even their honey.


Lock your doors, pull your children inside,

X, Y, and Z support equal pay for ladies,

Hiked wages will mean you’ll lose your own shady.

The fat cats don’t like this, there will be hell to pay,

If the little guy really matters, they’ll rue the day.


If you hit the remote, a channel with “learn” in the title

Is flaunting polygamy, or swinging in leather while biting a bridle.

TV regales dysfunction  in high voltage drama

Lightning quick one-liners, and a felon-dating Mama.

Shut the curtains, don’t go outside to play,

The bogey man is inside your own house and won’t go away.


Thanksgiving is coming and we’re all about gratitude.

The ethics debate has been dumped with last year’s attitude,

Yet history repeats itself, ‘tis true, very true,

Keep the faith, study the ballot, show up to vote,

Hope for the best and learn to cope.




To be continued….



Copyright © 2014 by Susan E. Rowland


I made it this far and plan to keep going. I believe nature heals the soul. I love to journal, to write, do art, and music. I'm not afraid to tackle tough subjects. Solar-powered & drive hybrid. Trying to do my part. Earned my BA at 53. And, I believe, it's never too late to have a happy childhood.

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