Category Archives: Poetry

A.H. Scott: Follow the Ruble Road


100 Rubles


Poetry by A. H. Scott, Copyright 2018


In the swirling of Special Counsel Robert Mueller’s investigation, an old adage from another place and time is ever so true. Follow the money! Or, in this case, follow the ruble. If all roads lead to Russian infusion of cash into the family business of Donald Trump, then we gotta’ “Follow the Ruble Road”.




Farmgirl of yesterday was blessed with Glinda the Good Witch

Citizenry of today is damned with the Son a Twitch

His are the seeds of sorrow he sowed

Follow the rule Road

Follow the ruble Road

Follow, follow, follow, follow, follow The ruble Road

Back in the day of Woodward and Bernstein, they showed us the way

This time, instead of the eagle, the bear leads the way

Scion of the Don explained it in 2008

All roads lead that a’ way

When in doubt, ruble will keep the kingdom afloat

Transparency be damned, for secrecy is the cloak of our clan

Emolument won’t dent our style, as we smile our way down that finely paid road

What part of being brought and paid for is misunderstood?

Collusion aint what it was or be

It’s just business that he done did

If ever there’s a road that has to be saved, it’s the one that rubles paid

Teller’s window in the banks of the states were closed to Son of a Twitch

Bankruptcy is such a sad affair

Yet, he had many, there and there and there

Gotta keep up the appearance of being a Golden Boy, even when the source of his funding makes him turn coy

Oh, boy, oh boy, how the ruble has turned

Since he reads no books, from history he has never attempted to learn

So, when Mueller comes for him, the afterglow of the bear will be the greatest burn

Road’s comin’ to an end and it is over that razor’s edge he is goin’ to bend


About The Author: A.H. Scott is a poet based in New York City and frequent contributor to Tony Ward Studio. To read additional articles by A. H. Scott, go here



Also posted in Blog, Current Events, Environment, History, News, Politics, Popular Culture, Travel, Women

A.H. Scott: Vortex of the Vile


Illustration by Eustace M. Pilgram, Copyright 2017



Poetry by A.H. Scott, Copyright 2017




In the vortex of the vile, there is never a reason to smile

All asphyxiated in this acidic arena they go

Stature diminished in a discombobulated flow

Emperor elbows anyone in his path, as a naked negativism exudes the core of this being’s wraith

Tactful restraint is nowhere about, for he must always toss around his clout

With belligerent belch of insensitivity incessantly coming from his mouth

This is the essence of what the vortex of the vile is about

For country, ideology, or any other reason it could be

Viper of chaos has chased them upward onto the branches of a burning tree

Generals of combat and command

For sense of duty

Titans of trade and commerce

For cents of duty

Duplicity is the oath of loyalty they now bear

Their once sterling reputations in former fields of glory have been sullied by the sadistic soul-shredder without care

At the helm of the vortex of the vile is a shit-starter who tosses fecal-laden sucker punches and scurries back from the front-line of retaliation by critique

But, that’s nothing new

Oh no, it’s not unique

There’s always a shit-starter who sets off the flame

But, as the firestorm blazes in the four winds in varied ways

They stand back and have others sacrifice their pride with statements of righteous defense

From tiny thumbs, the infantile tirade comes

But then again, the world holds its’ breath for the adults in the house to stand fast and fill the breach

Oh, who the Hell are we kidding?

Punditry from left and right, speak of maturity’s assurance to save us from this house of madness’ plight

Dog of many a year isn’t going to learn some new tricks

Because, being cruel is how he gets his kicks

Now, the carnival is afoot about how he turns his staff from lions to kittens

Charlottesville was nothing but a blip or a hiccup in time

Fine people were on both sides of that line

Mnuchin and Cohn got an important job to do

For constructing a mighty tax shelter will make them invisible to the Tiki torch-bearers’ view

Wave that flag! Wave that flag!

Try not to blind the public too much

Patriotism shouldn’t be callously manipulated like a bumper-sticker slogan and such

Dare not take a knee, for whatever unknown reason it could be

Knees are only meant to be capped by a boss in his high-chair

As he admonishes Rex not to don a diplomatic hat

So bizarre it is that a name of an Elton tune has been plopped into the mix

Howling at the moon is his style

No soul is safe in the Vortex of the Vile

Four men of valor taken too soon

And, actions of those in the office before you are knotted into your response

Will you stop it, will you stop it?

Stop reaching back beyond the Inauguration date of your own hand on that Holy book

Look in the mirror and take a close look

You can’t, you won’t, or maybe you just don’t care

Always right, ya’ gotta fight

Never wrong, that’s your song

Talk about news being fake, there are some things so beyond real

Touting how great thou art is your lofty deal

Paper towels punted, Mayor of San Juan shunned

For him, this is just so much damned fun

Throwaway lines and answers are spoken, leaving even the most steadfast souls broken

A father’s greatest pain spoken at the podium is even sadly diminished into a spin cycle’s token

Sacred things, sacred things

Pity how hollow that singular word rings

Audience of one sits in the office and cynically nods to himself 

Will he apologize?

Oh no, he will never take a knee

To be graceful and gallant as a gentleman he shall never be

America is being flushed down the drain of civility


About The Author: A.H. Scott is a poet based in New York City and frequent contributor to Tony Ward Studio. To read additional articles by A. H. Scott, go here


Also posted in Affiliates, Art, Blog, Current Events, News, Politics, Popular Culture, Women

A.H. Scott: Trustworthiness




Poetry by A. H. Scott, Copyright 2017


Art Work by Dean Rosensweig, Copyright 2017



Come one, come all!

Step Up! Step Up!

Behind this curtain, you’ll see things you could never imagine

Just a plug nickel for the ride of your life

Boyz! Girlz! Take a chance!

Come on inside – if you dare

No need to push or cut in the line

There is more than enough time

That’s it! That’s it!

Right this way is the main attraction

Center ring is his and his alone

It’s Trumpo the Liar!

Oh, yes, there he is in all his bombastic glory

Trumpo proclaims, “How do I love ME?”

His groveling chorus in the adjoining ring sings, “In a billion ways!”

Dancing girls may be nice

But, under this big top, another type of animal will suffice

It’s the dancing bear and his name is Vladimir

Brush away the questions of fondness and affection

Don’t be so cynical about the obvious deception

Trumpo tramples everything in his wake

Yet, the truth has become a Weeble that wobbles, as he motions deftly with a head fake

Trumpo the Liar is a marathon man

He’s gonna milk these four years the best he can

Every drop’s going into the Trump family’s golden pot

Emoluments’ clause is a figment of bubbles that shall pop

Turning the blind eye on this hustle comes from the top

Jeffy from ‘Bama holdin’ it down as Trumpo’s AG

Sessions smiles, “I’m not a liar, because you can trust li’l ol’ me”

Trumpo has faith that Jeffy will stay the course

Under Trumpo’s tent, nobody has remorse

Taking an oath don’t mean a damn thing

Once you snag that hallowed position, the hook is affixed in stone

Unless some bottom feeder has a videotape of Trumpo or Jeffy screwin’ an ice cream cone

But, even then, it doesn’t matter

Trumpo’s resiliency seems to be an impregnable porcelain pig which isn’t going to shatter

Chorus of the sycophants is now complete

Jeffy, Steve and Sean all start to hum

But, we all can’t forget the coarse counselor of batting lashes, Ms. Kellyanne

Pity the tune they sing is far from the Brotherhood of Man

“United We Stand, Divided We Fall!”

From Trumpo’s tantrums, that melody of humanity is nowhere in sight

Even the most ardent optimist feels a pang of plight

Nighty-night! Nighty-night!

The show is over, boyz and girlz!

Run quickly from this locale of Trumpo the Liar and get out into the world

Turn on your bullhorns and proudly speak the truth, “He is a LIAR!”

Normal this ain’t

And, we mustn’t make it so

More of his talking and tweeting is a furious punching of lower and lower blows

Trumpo the Liar only now needs is a big red nose

Clown in Chief

Democracy in Grief

Trumpo the Liar shall persist

Yet, the clarion call for truth shall always insist

One word for humanity is, “RESIST! RESIST! RESIST!”

A.H. Scott



About The Author: A.H. Scott is a poet based in New York City and frequent contributor to Tony Ward Studio. To read additional articles by A. H. Scott, go here


Also posted in Art, Blog, Current Events, Painting, Politics, Popular Culture, Women

A.H. Scott: How Much For a Spank?


Illustration by Alexandra Rouvet Duvernoy for Tony Ward Studio, Copyright 2017



Poetry by A. H. Scott, Copyright 2017


Illustration by Alexandra Rouvet Duvernoy, Copyright 2017




How much for a spank?

Don’t matter if you can’t answer, ‘cuz I can afford any price

How much for a spank?

Tethered and silent you shall be for me

How much for a spank?

Power is mine and I don’t give a damn about critique

How much for a spank?

Makes me laugh to hear about those masses of asses yearning to breathe free

How much for a spank?

The whip comes down on dissent

How much for a spank?

Stripping your decency is just the tip of my spear

Honey, you’re gonna take it in the rear

How much for a spank?

Tossin’ a few bucks here and there, as I demolish the safety net of social propriety without a care

How much for a spank?

I am lion in leather and studs

How much for a spank?

With iron fist & snicker in my voice, I say to Lady Liberty, “You ain’t got no choice”

How much for a spank?

Being master of the Oval Office is the ultimate wank

As I bust a nut, it’s you that I thank

How much for a spank?

Here’s another thousand from DJT

When ‘them history book writers come ‘round to see ‘ya, tell them a good friend of Vladimir was proud to grind your spirit down 



About The Author: A.H. Scott is a poet based in New York City and frequent contributor to Tony Ward Studio. To read additional articles by A. H. Scott, go here:



Also posted in Art, Blog, Current Events, Erotica, Friends of TWS, Men, Politics, Popular Culture

A.H. Scott: Fairy Tales & Four Years





Poetry by A. H. Scott, Copyright 2017


Portrait of Trump: Christopher Suciu, Copyright 2017




Mumble, Fumble, Grumble, Stumble, Gamble and Ramble

Grimm soul is putting us all in a shamble

Eyes so cold, belies a sorrow untold

Takin’ a boy from the borough of Queens and lettin’ him play in the towers of glass and metal has a score to settle

Fee-fi-fo-fum! Look at how far Son of a Drumpf has come!

Overcompensation and exaggeration can’t be held back from his forked tongues’ pout

It’s his world now, ya’ better watch out

More dangerous than a hydrogen bomb, is what comes out of his mouth

Only thing he’s spinning is a yarn of lies

Encased in tacky gold is his puny heart

Turn on the castle lights and them beady eyes shift into diamonds

Son of a Drumpf thinks when he awakens in the morn the revolving planet around him starts

Not so fast, false fool of obliviousness

There are still a few of us out here who calls ’em as we see’s ’em

He peddles it well, he shovels it deep

Cult of the Cotton Candy hair is in a trance-like sleep

Decorum be damned, as he thumps his chest and puts fear in the marrow of anyone in his wake

False Prophet of Populist rage snarls as he stomps across the world stage

The game he knows well, as the media tries to keep up

But, the liar of golden fluff is a cold-blooded prick who gets off on being tough

Grumble, grumble, mumble, and fumble

This ain’t no fairy tale, kiddies

Lady Conway and Count Barron stroke the throne

Egomaniac with a stranglehold on false facts has taken truth out back for 400 whacks

Nauseating nightmare is what we all are living

Just remember it’s only the beginning

Ain’t even been two months

Survive the day, survive the night

Batten down the hatches, cuz’ this is gonna’ be one hell of a fight

1,460 days might be too far in sight

Four years? Four years?

Am I losing my mind?

Oh, no Alice…only down the rabbit hole this nation has gone

Positioned pieces upon Destiny’s chessboard, we are now the pawn


About The Author: A.H. Scott is a poet based in New York City and frequent contributor to Tony Ward Studio. To read additional articles by A. H. Scott, go here:


Also posted in Art, Blog, Current Events, History, News, Politics, Popular Culture, Portraiture