The Perfidy Report

Day 140: The Former FBI Chief Uses the “L” Word

 

No one says it

anywhere in Washington.

One tells an untruth.

One has misspoken.

One’s words are misleading

or one is misrepresenting the facts.

But we heard it yesterday

in public testimony

from a private citizen

a month out of his job

as head of the FBI,

in the halls of Congress

in front of everyone

in the country

who cared to tune in.

 

The President lied.

The President is a liar.

 

We’re not talking about

the way politicians

routinely bend truth

to sound like something else,

or how they disagree with

irrefutable facts if

it doesn’t suit their agenda,

or how they say one thing

to this set of constituents

and another to those

—though let’s call that what it is, too.

Best, it comes from a man

who has spent his life

ascertaining lies and sniffing out liars,

who smelled one

the first time

he sat in a room alone

with the President of the United States.

 

The next morning

the President says he is vindicated.

The President says

the former head of the FBI

is a liar.

 

Two untruths do not make a reality.

 

–June 9, 2017, Harlem

 

Day 139: Who Will Rid Me

Nine solo meetings in three months

with the third president you’ve served under.

 

Only two in eight years

with the last,

one to discuss policy and

one to say goodbye.

 

But this one—

nine meetings alone

to discuss his scandals

and the poor choice

of minions tarred

with another country’s brush.

Over a dinner,

where you thought

there would be others,

the Liar in Chief says

he hopes

you can let this one go

the way Henry

wished aloud he could be rid

of his friend and

political adversary, that he

would stop being such a thorn,

an obstruction to his policies,

a cloud impeding his reign.

 

You begin to document your meetings then.

 

Kings and CEOs expect

to get what they want

and not always directly, by

Executive Order.

But the death of Justice

is no better a deed than

a murder in a cathedral.

There will be no martyrs

this time.

 

–June 8, 2017, Harlem

 

Day 138: Non Non-Stick Don

Did you think it was okay

—just business—

you know, just the two of us

to ask the head of the FBI,

the CIA, and National Intelligence

to just fahgettaboudit,

that little matter

of your Security Advisor

being on the Turkish payroll

and pals with the Ruskies?

That Mike Flynn,

he’s a great guy,

loves his country so much

he’ll shill

for a foreign nation’s interests

so they think

they can beat up American citizens

on our own soil.

Just lay off him, will ya?

 

John Gotti you ain’t, sir.

More like Vincent Gigante

but one step away

from the real bathrobe stroll,

not feigning at all,

not smart enough

to fool the experts.

The shaky empire you’ve got

is mired in debt

to the real thing,

the kind who

make offers

you can’t refuse.

 

You thought firing Comey

would save your ass,

but there’s no non-stick coating

on that frying pan of yours

and we’re turning up the fire.

 

-June 7, 2017, Harlem

 

 

Day 100: Dumpster Fire Recap

By now, fifty percent

of the country thinks

you’re doing an awful job.

They’re not wrong.

 

Scandals and violations follow you

like stray cats,

pissing in your footsteps

crapping on the White House lawn:

your minions colluding with Russians and

possible treason

to fix an election you couldn’t win,

the Emoluments Clause

hanging over your head

like some gold-plated sword,

your children

moving into the People’s House

rent free,

exempt from all the rules,

—and you, acting like some penny ante dictator

with absolute power

and a magic pen.

 

Your appointees are on a revolving door—

in one day, out the next

either by whim

or avoiding the Law.

Few of them

have ever been anything other

than capitalist dictators

in their own fiefdoms.

The rest of the seats

are still vacant.

It’s a wonder

we have a government at all.

Thank goodness, or the Founding Fathers

who thought this all out,

for all those bureaucrats you hate

who soldier on

without leaders,

doing the right thing,

smoothing ruffled foreign feathers,

translating your word salad,

putting out your fires,

mailing checks.

 

Like your minions,

you have no idea what you’re doing,

or that you’re

no longer your own man and

have no golden parachute.

We should strip you of that pension, too.

Your tweets to your base

show only what a blowhard

and a showboater you are.

And vision? Make America Great

Again is just a slogan.

There is no plan, apparently.

 

And your only musing

on what you’ve wrought is

I thought it would be easier.

 

-Lee Kottner, Harlem, April 30, 2017