The Bologna Blog

Welcome 2018

Welcome to 2018

On dangerous precipice, our country stands
Convicted not by the courts of our lands
Political arena both judge and jury
Stuck in between the media’s fury
Gossip and hearsay the only proof
Innuendos, haunted cries of wolf
With Victim’s call of injury
Slope seems wet and slippery
Past hindering her memory
Concerning tales of lechery
True or false, the heated debate
One man left to learn his fate

Lay not truth in justice’s realm
Instead sketch the scene to overwhelm
Choose a side or flip a coin
Media entices you to enjoin
Speak not of survivor’s woe
Plaster for all to see a woman’s photo
Grieve not for her misery and pain
With reputation thrown under the train
Speak of evil to discuss her plight
Judge her, for only we know what’s right
On dangerous precipice, our country stands
Labeled a liar at governments hands

On dangerous precipice, our country stands
A woman scorned our country brands
She made it up amongst her dreams
Accused and ridiculed for her schemes
The man’s a letch, a nation screams
Politics first, division to extremes
All guilt or innocence previously presumed
Each side’s witnesses carefully groomed
Validity questioned of each story told
Bill of goods this tale by media sold
On dangerous precipice our country stands
Let news outlets rule the courts of our lands

A simple plea for calmer heads to prevail
Balance truth weighted on even scale
Waste not your trouble to call out names
Refute desire to set society in flames
Constrain your anger, seek out the truth
Let your voice be heard in voter’s booth
Dismiss the hysteria, follow no man’s agenda
Every member of Congress should be subpoenaed
With miscarriage of justice in the clown-like arena
For harsh words tossed against Athena
And sullying a record of good service
Our nation pays the price for their disservice


On dangerous precipice, our country stands
The case should be laid in jury’s hands
All voice of reason lost so it seems
With politicians bashing the others teams
Forgotten are the women who in silent dread
With their cries of malice torn to shreds
Weeping in honest sorrows of the past
Dimmed vision of man in house glassed
Insinuation whispered, profile discarded
No semblance of order to be regarded
Priority given for society’s panic to ensue
Omitting details, they strive to construe
Flinging truth carelessly asunder
So we fail to notice all of their blunders