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On the nth day of Covid

My eyes were set to see:

Twelve future boosters,

Leaden feet of holdouts,

Ten-tative crowding,

Nein, you’re too close still.

Ate turkey askin’

Should we have a mask on?

Six wary bubbles,

Five lockdown swings.

For your good friends

Three air hugs,

Two bumping fists,

And a large wish to be care-free.

* * * * *

Away in a hurry –

No room for our friends.

The Afghans who helped us

Were left as loose ends.

We praised their assistance.

We did what we could,

Which mainly was couldn’t

And quite far from good.

* * * * *

Here comes Sorta Claus,

Here comes Sorta Claus,

In a sorta-there way.

Shelves are semi-stocked,

Stores are shortage-shocked,

Items prone to delay.

One day we will see

Each strapped factory

Rise to meet the demand.

Meanwhile, take a pause.

Look to Sorta Claus

For an also-ran brand.

* * * * *

Angles they played needlessly.

Trudeau called an early vote.

Keen for a majority.

Voters said that boat won’t float.

Go-o-oal’s denied.

Hubris saw its bet lose.


Just increased the de-ebt blues.

* * * * *

O’Toole, are ye faithful

To your early platform?

That’s what they’re arguing

When not being expelled.

Flip ye or flop ye –

If she quarrels, drop she.

Oh come, let us regroup, then,

Or else we’re in the soup, then –

An internecine troupe then.

Cry-ying out loud.

* * * * *

China’s restless, like an open fire,

Making other countries fret.

Pressing on with its feints at Taiwan

As Huawei’s tentacles upset.

Flexes muscles. It has missiles, too.

Hong Kong’s underneath its heel.

Uyghurs flee, with denials by Xi.

Many crackdowns to rue.

* * * * *

Silent flight,

Homeward flight,

Michaels freed

From their plight.

Wrong the version

China put out.

Just a show of

Political clout.

Pawns as month by month pa-assed.

Sleep in freedom at last.

* * * * *

Rude, all the Rogers rundown,

Psychodrama off the air.

Tension from dawn to sundown,

Pitting heir against hot heir.

All of the awestruck nation

Watched the stuff without a break,

Flushed with anticipation:

What a series this would make.

Think: One foggy Christmas Eve,

Santa comes to say:

“Some directors just get coal.

Please will someone take control?”

Oh, how the joint was jumping.

Still they couldn’t quite agree.

Rough is the Rogers reign, dear.

They’ll go down in mystery.

* * * * *

We see things

While bearing the brunt,

Say those on

The ICU front.

On machines without vaccines,

Patients are sadly blunt:


“Why, I wonder, did I balk?

Joined the anti-vaxxing flock.

Vaccination hesitation,

Shunned a shot, now face a shock.”

* * * * *

I saw two ships go sailing high,

The hopes and prayers of billionaires,

With Musk and Bezos keen to fly

The tourist trips of tomorrow.

And who was in that rocket ship?

Why, it’s the Shat – just fancy that.

So Bezos grins. His PR wins,

No doubt to Elon’s great sorrow.

* * * * *

False T., the showman,

Is no longer C-in-chief.

Though he’s still a brute

He is now on mute,

Which occasions some relief.

Sadly, the circus

Of the GOP persists.

Acolytes still swoon

To the False T. tune

As they shake their Fox-fed fists.

There’s really something tragic

In the way they lap up lies.

“The sixth of Jan was just a lark.

Let truth stumble in the dark.”

False T., the showman,

Is at work behind the scenes,

As the saner souls are considered trolls

And erased by any means.

* * * * *

O little coin of Bet-the-Farm,

How still we see thee rise.

Come roll the dice on Bitcoin’s price,

The digital surmise.

We can’t foretell the future

Of ransomware’s best friend.

It’s up, it’s down, so go to town

And pray the ride won’t end.

* * * * *

Go dread your many purchases,

For they may cause dismay.

Inflation’s much like Whac-A-Mole –

It changes ev’ry day,

From oil and homes to meat and fruit,

We pray before we pay.

O-oh tiring of prices that jump.

Hope for a slump.

O-oh timing is crucial at the pump.

* * * * *

Join with the world.

The borders ease.

It’s possible to fly.

Let travel start.

Be still, my heart.

But what’s required of guests?

What documents, what tests?

Disorder, which bo-order,

At whose behests?

* * * * *

Oh, the robocall spiels are frightful.

They call from morn till nightfall.

“If you want your ducts cleaned, say so.”

Bet it’s no, bet it’s no, bet it’s no.

Or the scammers who try to scare you

By saying the cops will snare you.

If the call display does its thing,

Let it ring, let it ring, let it ring.

* * * * *

While sharp eyes watched their stocks at night

And all throughout the day,

The market shot up out of sight,

With players keen to pay.

This run can’t be indefinite,

The cautious watchers cry.

New records surely will be hit –

Until the day you buy.

* * * * *

Debt’s the load we’re boldly hauling.

Fa la la la la, la la la la.

Covid’s cost has been appalling.

Fa la la la la, la la la la.

Int’rest rates may soon be hurtin’.

Fa la la, la la la, la la la.

How we’ll manage is uncertain.

Fa la la la la, la la la la.

Strike the harp and join the chorus.

Fa la la la la, la la la la.

Maybe we can just ignore this.

Fa la la la la, la la la la.

Banish thought of our arrears day.

Fa la la, la la la, la la la.

Stick your fingers in your ears – say,

“La la la la la, la la la la.”

– Warren Clements

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