UNDER CONSTRUCTION

Toast the brand new year—but watch your step.

You’re entering a hard-hat area.

The future is under construction.

Last year was a train wreck.

Government jumped the tracks,

lay on its side, wheels spinning.

No connections. No direction.

Checks and balances dismantled—

like the White House itself.

No change in sight for 2026.

Supreme Court stooges run amok.

Senators kowtow and kiss the ring.

Laws apply to subjects, not to kings.

Clueless, photogenic figureheads—

folks you wouldn’t trust to water plants—

manage massive budgets, oversee

DOJ, defense, health, education…

Offices are rubber-stamped by suits

playing quid-pro-quo games.

Brushfires flare up—a new blaze daily.

The government shuts down.

No wages paid week after week.

No failures fixed. Forecast: more flames to come.

A vintage jukebox wails out country woes—

but “cheatin’ hearts” give way to urban blues:

tariffs, health care, price of food and gas…

A vinyl record hits a snag, and stutters

Epstein files, Epstein files, Eps…

Distractions needed.

ICE rounds up brown faces,

lynches brown dreams.

Jaws drop as evening news shows secret orders—

Our country bombs Iran,

bombs ships at sea, and all who cling to wreckage.

Are we at war?

Only the war on immigrants—

a short-sighted war. If we win, we lose.

Allies back away from us, cut ties.

Putin pens our foreign policy.

Gifts are now the norm.

Contracts, kickbacks. Jumbo jets. Gold crowns.

Psst! Hey kid, want some candy? Follow me…

The old year’s all used up.

It’s time to buy a ticket to tomorrow.

But wait—the future’s closed for repairs.

So grab a jack-hammer

and blast through gilded lies.

There are no hands to build anew

but ours.

AFFORDABILITY

Scrambled eggs for family brunch

@ 3 eggs per person = Scrooge’s Christmas goose.

Supermarket shelves have upped each sign.

Economy is this—our daily bread.Our rent, gas, spending cash.

Our shoes and socks.

Tariffs wear masks, stand with pistols drawn.

Stagecoach– robbed before it hits Dodge City. 

You say it’s not a heist?

It’s just a hoax? 

Some billionaire keeps making millions daily?

Dude—he’s the desperado holding guns!

And someone’s turning all that gold bullion

into wall decor to make the White House

Into tacky chic—Motel Versailles.

Building a ballroom.

Using our healthcare to gild the ego of a grumpy man.

Landlords, bankers, butchers get bad raps

trying to make a living, to scrape by…

They’re but the flags, economy’s red alert.

Stock market’s up—but you know who that helps.The 1%. 

Not me, my friend.

Nor you.

Rice and beans and pasta—all imported.

Price hikes—our new diet.

Get a job,but now commuting’s pricey—and we’re lucky.

So many out of work.

No food. No home. 

We measure fitness by the price of eggs.