ELON MUSK IS WATCHING YOU

ELON MUSK IS WATCHING YOU

Careful what you say or do,

For Elon Musk is watching you,

From the keyhole of his keyboard.

He looks at you and smirks

Trusty chainsaw by his side

He conducts his dirty works.

He's slashing here, slashing there,

In fact he's slashing everywhere 

Scientists and soldiers, Medicaid and Medicare

He answers to no one but The Donald, Mr. Trump

Elected in part by Elon's cash and speeches on the stump.

Elon he is quick to lay intentions on the line.

He has quickly learned to be quite concerned with how you spend your time

He'll have your job if you don''t comply, and list your bullet points of five, 

Tell him your accomplishments and prove your inner worth,

To illustrate that you deserve to walk his precious earth,

To breathe the hallowed air he breathes and to believe what he believes

It gives him pure unbridled bliss, to get up in your business.

Are you fit to drive a Tesla, do you know your place

Or are you just a relic taking up precious space. 

Musk the de facto President was not even elected.

But that doesn't stop him from being protected

By the orange clown and criminal who occupies the White House

Together they conspire to pour fuel upon the fire,

A cunning conflagration that cannot be doused.

Yet it's become quite clear to see, they're ruining the economy.

By slashing with a chainsaw, the hope and promise of it all.

Though you probably don't believe it's true,

Both Musk and Trump are stalking you.

Musk wears a sporty MAGA cap perched high upon his head, 

Has fathered fourteen children some with gals he never wed

One kid who dared rudely tell the President to shut up,

To say in just a quiet inkling what most of us were only thinking.

Wiping snot from his nose on the President's desk,

While Musk appeared to suffer the child and ignore the holy mess.

So go your way and live your life with your husband or your wife,

Cover up your keyholes, as the sun sets purple in the sky,

Watch the birds that circle, so graceful as they fly

Just know he's out there, chainsaw ready, no matter what you do, 

As darkness falls upon the land, Elon Musk is watching you.

-Bruce Potts   

Copyright 2025

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

EVERYTHING HURTS BUT YOU

 EVERYTHING HURTS BUT YOU

(FOR KYLE, ON YOUR BIRTHDAY) 

Everything hurts these days but you

The hips especially, having been ravaged by falls

The arms from the stiffness when the meds do not work.

The legs rigid as stout little toothpicks-

 On their slow journey to nowhere  

Everything hurts, like the loss of my brother

Cruelly cut down in his prime.

I had hoped and prayed we would have more time

But the gods who deal out life and death

Who micromanage human breath

Made the decision to spirit him away

And everything it hurts but you in the naked light of day.

Everything hurts but you, like my lower back and spine,

Who conspire at length against me, the cheater and his concubine;

Everything hurts like the blow that I took to the head

When I  fell in the bathroom and copiously bled

Down came the shower curtain, striking my head with the sharp end of the rod

I could have been a goner, but for the grace of God.

Everything hurts but you, like the dyskinesias that threaten to tear me limb from limb,

When the meds are working overtime, and my feet they move like mayhem.

Through all of this, my love, there is you, ever stalwart and  ever true,

You bravely walk beside me on this twisted path of pain 

Through the damaging winds and the driving rain that always falls in spurts

You are my treasured talisman that heals and never hurts.

You slow me down and calm my heart with a warm and wondrous glow.

And today on this your birthday,  I just thought that you should know.

-Bruce Potts

Copyright 2025

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED 

ROUGH AND TUMBLE BROTHERS

 ROUGH AND TUMBLE BROTHERS

(FOR THOM)

We grew up rough and tumble brothers in that green and brick house,

A little past the middle of Braxton Hill,

If I close my eyes and concentrate, I can conjure it up still.

When our mom brought me home from the hospital, 

You were on the floor playing with your toys,

Asked my mother where's the baby,

Took a disapproving look and made a disapproving noise

 Went back to playing with your toys, the action figures and the cars.

An inauspicious start to this brotherhood of ours.

Always smarter than me you skipped first grade

Like Oscar Wilde you had a quick wit.

Sarcasm that cut like a two sided blade.

It makes me smile to think of it.

Yet you defended me from bullies at the top of our hill,

Who appeared almost daily like trolls beneath a bridge,

You drove them off with an iron persistent will,

That caused them to surrender, white flag atop the ridge.

Meanwhile we passed the time with Jeff, Nancy, Linda and Bruce,

Our neighbors up the hill and one street over,

Or Cathy Williams and Tito Valinas, who were down the hill and over the way

With these staunch companions we passed the languid days.

We shared many of the same teachers, Mrs. Griffin, Trott and Earle.

Perhaps there were others but it's lost in a whirl. 

I tried to live up to the legacy of you who went before,

Never content to equal you, I needed to be more,

Struggling for A's on the progress reports,

Worried always I was coming up short.

In college we diverged, you to UVA, me to JMU,

I majored in English. you in French.

You pursued teaching, I pursued radio,

We both pursued romance, you found it first

With Tom and then with Richard. but I still had a thirst,

It was satisfied when I met Kyle,

At last a man who touched my heart and always made me smile.

We would all meet for dinners out or home cooked meals that you would make,

Always new recipes, like homemade ice cream, and raspberry cake.

In January of 2024 you decided to retire 

After 40 odd years of teaching French

When into your plans came a monkey wrench.

A strange sudden hoarseness that would not go away

They found the cancer in one of your lungs in April; the cruelest month

Despite chemo and radiotherapy by summer it had gone to your brain

By December you were on home oxygen, by the 22nd you were gone

Your spirit flying freely to a land of everlasting dawn.

And though the tears they flood my eyes, wet and overflowing

I take comfort in knowing, that like in Joni's song about clouds, 

We finally said I love you, over and over, right out loud.

And if melancholy ever threatens to overwhelm 

I'll take a memory trip back to the old  days,

When we were rough and tumble brothers in a green and brick house,

A little past the middle of Braxton Hill.

I can close my eyes and concentrate and conjure it up still.

-Bruce Potts

Copyright 2024

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

SO GRATEFUL TO HAVE BEEN HERE

SO GRATEFUL TO HAVE BEEN HERE

(FOR MY BROTHER THOM) 

So grateful to have been here, to have walked Earth's joyful mile,

To have tasted both the love and fear, to celebrate the tear and smile.

To have held the hand of many a friend, to have held my lover sweet and fine,

So grateful to have been here, for the rose and for the wine.

The universe has loosed its purse strings, like manna falling from the skies,

The eagle soars and spreads its wings, and like the eagle I will fly.

So grateful to have been here, just like Fortune's favorite son,

I've had my share of pain and cheer, have tasted both like everyone.

I am richer for the struggle, I am grateful for the pain,

I have seen the keenest rainbows, in the sky after a summer rain.

I can tell you life is sweet and though I'm sometimes sour,

I move my feet to a hopeful beat, I trust in my own power.

At this time in bleak midwinter when we pause in thoughtful mood

I join the ranks and give my thanks with praise and gratitude.

For this magical, mighty moveable feast,

Times tossed in turmoil, days peppered with peace.

I say a humble sacred prayer, for hearts encumbered everywhere,

For in the midst of fear and strife, there is promise of new life.

Let us seize it while we can, each precious grain of sand

That pours forth from the hourglass, let us taste life while it lasts.

For me life may be winding down, who really knows for sure?

All we are promised is the now, the present moment is the cure.

The antidote to sorrow and to things that could have been,

No one knows the Master's plan, when life begins and ends.

So grateful to have been here, for the elements of style,

For the passion and the fashion alive in every smile.

To have been around for just awhile, to have tasted cool fresh air,

To have known the rush of ecstasy, the downward spiral of despair.

I have known it all and cherished each measured, sacred breath,

When all it has been said and done, I will have tasted death.

I will have crossed to the other side and seen God's precious face,

Joined with those that have passed before me to this special place.

Happier for the lives I touched in my precious time on earth,

Happier still that they touched mine with merriment and mirth.

Richer for the days gone by, for the privilege of a lifetime,

So grateful to have been here, for the rose and for the wine.

-Bruce Potts

Revised Copyright 2024

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

FLIM FLAM

FLIM FLAM

Here comes again the flim flam man,

With his tired racist tropes and his orange tan.

Fascist Don with his spewing of hate,

Blowing a lot of smoke as of late,

No friend to women or LGBTQ.

He is quite simply playing you, stirring the pot,

With his odes he speaks to Hitler,

The democracy he forgot.

Meanwhile a woman of conscience and strength,

Provides a new way forward to save us from fascism

Here's hoping Kamala comes and kicks his sorry ass in.

And not to be impertinent, impudent or in the least verbose,

How the hell is this election the slightest bit close?.   

i've said it before, Donald, and so it must be true,

That no one does a snow job quite like you.

 

Thumpety, thumpety, thumpety, thump,

Here comes humpty dumpty Trump,

With the gall to call this land a dump,

They're eating the dogs, they're eating the cats,

He lies like a fiend with the drop of a hat.

And let's not forget JD, and his distaste for the cat ladies,

It's oh so easy and plain to deduce,

You're only worthy if you reproduce.

Here comes the fascist flim flam man,

With his trademark red tie and his bright orange tan.

His reason for running, far as I can tell,

Is to elude prosecution and time in a cell

The immigrants he disparages commit far fewer crimes than he,

The U.S .is still a melting pot, land of the brave and free.

Do not let him fool you, he's only in this for himself,

A slithering snake best left on the shelf.

Before you vote him in, it's not at all silly

To heed the words of Generals Kelly and Milley.

For just this once don't be shy, to give Kamala a try

To leave the flim flam at the door where it can rot forevermore,

And join me proud and unembarrassed,

To cast your vote for Walz and Harris.

-Bruce Potts

Copyright 2024

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

CAVEMEN

CAVEMEN 

Once upon a time

On a whimsical Wednesday 

We lost power in our house

And were cavemen for an hour.

We ate breakfast by the flashlights on our Smart Phones,

You with your low fat granola, me with my two apples and Cheerios.

Both of us drank the kerosene coffee you'd made 

Which had barely finished brewing at the time we lost power.

(Don't worry honey, one day you'll get it just right-haha)

No lights, no television, no radio.

(Note to self- have Kyle buy batteries next time he goes shopping)

We talked on topics dear to our hearts

Our mutual admiration for Kamala, our disdain for Trump

a/k/a the man whose name shall not be spoken in this household

But alas I do digress and cavemen were not especially political creatures anyway.

The start to the morning was quite the welcome respite,

Taking the tedious sameness of my days away,

Then, all too soon the electric was back,

No longer did we need to figure out

How to manually open the garage door.

And things went back to semi normal.

You went off to hunt and gather,

Selling your meats, cheeses and salads.

I stayed back to defend our cave,

Armed with my cane and my deadly walker.

-Bruce Potts

Copyright 2024

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

RIVULETS

RIVULETS 

Rivulets of tears fall from my eyes,

The call of the cold, the pallor of the prize.

Either motionless as a slaughtered dove

Or dyskinetic as a discordant dream,

My destiny's clenched in fisted glove.

Salty tears in rivulets, in salty desert streams.

Dyskinetic legs that flail, arms that do the same,

I would seek my retribution if I knew just who to blame.

Easy to blame the medicine, the levodopa pills.

They cause the extra movements, but without them I'm too still,

And everyone's got something, I've no right to file complaint,

So I stay quiet as a church mouse and stoic as a saint

The rivulets flow down my cheeks, dissolving all my war paint.

Rivulets of regret surround me, the fear I've caused it all,

Insecticides that I once sprayed the reason for my downfall.

Meanwhile they're finding pesticides being sprayed near schools,

23 pesticides in children's fruit cups, it leaves me ill at ease,

A breeding ground for Parkinson's, harbinger of disease.

Those pesticides are in the air, the air we all must breathe,

 invisible to the human eye, more deadly than they seem,

They insinuate themselves into our lives,

Destroy our sleep and murder dreams

They infiltrate our precious lakes, our rivers and our streams.

Someone's got to do something, picket the factories, call the EPA,

If not we're all complicit, we're all just sitting fools,

Pesticides they have no place in our air and in our schools.

I'm raising hell and taking names, making sure no one forgets

And the tears that meander down my face, are not foreign or misplaced,

They are tears of concern for the human race, salty rivulets.

 

-Bruce Potts

Copyright 2024

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED