Trump planned a grand arch in D.C.,  
That would block famous sights one could see.  
Though the Park Service backed it,  
Preservationists attacked it—  
An arch-enemy of scenery.

In DC they pitched a big arch,
To tower o'er monuments' march;
Said the park folks, "Agreed,
Those sightlines recede,"
A monu-mental miscue, archly off-arch.

There once was a hardhat-clad beaver,
Posting “dam good advice,” a believer:
Save water, toss less plastic,
Back beaver work fantastic—
He really gives a dam, that achiever.

At Fort Bliss stood a soldier on call,
While his wife missed a hearing roll call,
When parole in place lost its place,
And safeguards rolled back apace,
She was sent to Honduras; he shoulders it all.

There once was a builder so grand,
Who stacked debts like high-rises planned;
He pleaded to fraud,
Faced the justice squad—
Now he’s Ever-grounded for life, by command.

At the port, stacks of boxes galore,
Show neighbors in full-on trade war.
“Cents over sense—duty calls!”
Cried the North, raising walls;
Now the puck stops at customs’ front door.

There once was a writer named Heller,
Whose Dog Stars made bleak nights more stellar;
He stocked up on skills,
From tough outdoor drills,
Come Heller high water—best-seller.

At forty, that album called Graceland,
Still grooves like a world-spanning jam band;
It bridged troubled borders,
But tangled with boycott orders—
You can call me Al-ternative, grand.

There once was a traveler distraught,
At Customs sans passport—got caught;
On Scottish greens, no cart,
With phones showing no bars to start—
“Fore-give me, dear chief; grief’s got me overwrought.”

For the second time this week up North,
two short-range firebolts leapt forth;
With war-games on a diet,
the neighbors don't buy it—
Seoul-searching for missives, not missiles, henceforth.

The White House sought digs fresh and spry,
new D.C. HQ for the FBI.
Then the judge issued “Stay!”
so the boxes won’t sway—
no move without probable clause—nice try.

Two pols in a headline’s bright frame,
As an op-ed advanced a claim:
“Not communist creed,
Just liberal speed”—
They left the Right and righted the Left’s game.

On a platform where cold breezes whine,
Folks toe the bright yellow-edge line;
A blue-green double-decker they hail,
As snow skitters softly by the rail—
Their train of thought? Keep a solid track record by design.

On a news site, the headline decrees,
A leader may nab the EU’s keys;
While rockets by night,
Leave a refinery bright,
He shows keen interest in capital—please.

A US-brokered truce set the frame,
Hostage swaps, two-state endgame;
Bibi pushed it aside,
Left Joe to Biden and bide,
“Score for Hamas,” critics proclaim.

At a Black Sea port on the chain,
a strike hit a major hub for grain.
With silos ablaze,
trade stalled for days—
a cereal setback along shipping’s main lane.

A MAX took a drafty new tour,
When its “door plug” became an air door;
“Not going, dear Boeing,”
Said watchdogs, “Start showing
Tight bolts, then your fleet can soar.”

There once was a handgun for sale,
Too risky for cops on patrol’s trail;
Though lawsuits take aim,
It’s sold just the same—
A triggered debate with oversight frail.

Nvidia sent bankers a pitch,
To fuel AI’s ever-growing itch;
They’ll splash all that cash,
In a data-center dash,
Half a trillion for a cash-to-cache switch.

There once was an H3 from Japan,
Whose liftoff gave shorelines a tan,
A 10,800-pound guide,
Took a high Earth orbit ride,
Now routes are on the right track—what a flight plan!