BELOW ARE "REPLAYS" OF THREE WEEKS WORTH OF SOME OF OUR FEATURED POEMS OF THE WEEK.
THE FIRST SET IS FROM BACK IN EARLY JULY WHEN MANY, MANY PEOPLE WERE HOPING HISTORY WOULD REPEAT ITSELF. HERE IS A REPRISE OF MY COMMENTS AND THE POEMS:
THE FIRST SET IS FROM BACK IN EARLY JULY WHEN MANY, MANY PEOPLE WERE HOPING HISTORY WOULD REPEAT ITSELF. HERE IS A REPRISE OF MY COMMENTS AND THE POEMS:
FROM THE WEEK OF JULY 4:
Three US Presidents died on July 4th: Thomas Jefferson (1826), John Adams (1826), and James Monroe (1831). All this past week and much of yesterday, I heard from many, many people and saw many, many posts online all expressing hopes and prayers that Trump would turn the trio a quartet. Weather-wise it was certainly hot enough -- as if the Gates of Hell were opening and Mitch McConnell was down there prepping a place for Pedophile-in-Chief. I'm actually typing this and preparing our "Featured Poems of the Week" with about seven hours of the day to go -- so who knows -- maybe all those hopes and prayers will come true?
In support of HellWatch 2026 -- the looking forward to the day when Trump descends into the eternal hell fires that await him and our massive worldwide party begins -- I have posted an 1853 poem by Emmett Lee Dickinson as one of our Featured Poems of the Week, ""Funny to be a Semiquincentennial." Dickinson's poem inspired his third cousin Emily to pen her poem "Funny to be a Century," our other Featured Poem.
Three US Presidents died on July 4th: Thomas Jefferson (1826), John Adams (1826), and James Monroe (1831). All this past week and much of yesterday, I heard from many, many people and saw many, many posts online all expressing hopes and prayers that Trump would turn the trio a quartet. Weather-wise it was certainly hot enough -- as if the Gates of Hell were opening and Mitch McConnell was down there prepping a place for Pedophile-in-Chief. I'm actually typing this and preparing our "Featured Poems of the Week" with about seven hours of the day to go -- so who knows -- maybe all those hopes and prayers will come true?
In support of HellWatch 2026 -- the looking forward to the day when Trump descends into the eternal hell fires that await him and our massive worldwide party begins -- I have posted an 1853 poem by Emmett Lee Dickinson as one of our Featured Poems of the Week, ""Funny to be a Semiquincentennial." Dickinson's poem inspired his third cousin Emily to pen her poem "Funny to be a Century," our other Featured Poem.
| By Emmett Lee Dickinson: Funny – to be a Semiquincentennial – And see the Fascists – ranting on – He – should die just for Oddity – I mean – three others too – and him – He’d keep his Secrets safely – very – Down there in Hell – extremely thankful This Wishful Globe of Ours would be – So zany in Festivity | By Emily Dickinson: Funny – to be a Century – And see the People – going by – I – should die of the Oddity – But then – I'm not so staid – as He – He keeps His Secrets safely – very – Were He to tell – extremely sorry This Bashful Globe of Ours would be – So dainty of Publicity |
THE SECOND "REPLAY" IS FROM THE WEEK OF 7/19/26 WHEN MITCH McCONNELL (OR SOMEONE ON HIS BEHALF) WAS POSTING "PROOF OF LIFE" PICTURES TO PROVE MITCH WASN'T "McGONE'LL:
Until his death is confirmed and reported by the most trusted news source on the planet, the Emmett Lee Dickinson Museum News Desk, Mitch McConnell is still alive -- he is not yet to be known as "Mitch McGone'll." Plus, what further proof do you need -- just yesterday Mitch and his wife Elaine climbed the tallest building in Kentucky, 400 West Market, in Louisville, and they planted a flag with a quote from Emily Dickinson.
 |  |
In tribute to the McConnells' daring climb, I have posted Emmett Lee Dickinson's poem "I am alive, this morning" as one of our Featured Poems of the Week. Dickinson's poem inspired his third cousin Emily to pen her poem "He is alive, this morning," our other Featured Poem.
| By Emmett Lee Dickinson: I am alive, this morning – I am alive – and awake – Pics reassuring for you – Portraits – just for your Sake. Please – for the Love of Money Here’s another one Me – to retell – You – Only – Maggots ain't that dumb. | By Emily Dickinson: He is alive, this morning – He is alive – and awake – Birds are resuming for Him – Blossoms – dress for His Sake. Bees – to their Loaves of Honey Add an Amber Crumb Him – to regale – Me – Only – Motion, and am dumb. |
THE THIRD REPRISE OF SOME OF OUR FEATURED POEMS OF THE WEEK, IS FROM 8/2/26:
For years, maggots railed about a pedo-ring run from the basement of a DC pizza parlor. Of course, it was all fabrication -- and the pizza parlor involved doesn't even have a basement. However, it turns out that their supreme leader, the Commander in Sleep, ol' Diapered Don, was involved in human trafficking and the rape of children -- and now they wear t-shirts that state boldly, "I Don't Care If Trump Is A Pedophile."
For years, maggots railed about rigged elections, and they never stopped to think: the Guns Over People party controls all three branches of the government -- and yet Democrats rig elections? It is truly unbelievable and pathetic how easily maggots are duped.
With part of the election rigging rigmarole, maggots always rail about dead voters -- yet now, not a peep about Dead Mitch McGone'll still serving in the Senate. They freak out about dead voters but not dead senators?
In response to all of the hilarious memes about Mitch's wife Elaine sitting at his side in his hospital bed, I've posted Emmett Lee Dickinson's "As by the dead she loves to sit" as one of Featured Poems of the Week. Dickinson's poem inspired his third cousin Emily to pen her poem "As by the dead we love to sit," our other Featured Poem.
| By Emmett Lee Dickinson: As by the dead she loves to sit, Becomes so wondrously clear – As for the rest we grapple Cuz Mitch’s corpse is right there – It’s GOP theatrics To maximize their prize Vast – is the base stupidity With their incurious eyes! | By Emily Dickinson: As by the dead we love to sit, Become so wondrous dear – As for the lost we grapple Tho' all the rest are here – In broken mathematics We estimate our prize Vast – in its fading ratio To our penurious eyes! |
 |  |
 |  |
RSS Feed
