Tag Archives: fraud

STRONG OF HEART

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Hardened hearts break easily,

leaving broken pieces to fall

as heavy weights of brute strength,

and painful threats strewn about the streets

bathed in pepper gas and tears

of gas dripping over the faces of our children,

our elderly, our disabled; all allies

of the young who’s futures face flash bangs

of deceit and fraud and outright theft.

All of us thrown to the ground 

stumped and stamped upon

by those whose hardened hearts

keep breaking and flung about in rage.

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The hearts of those who protest are soft.

They are known for their easy acceptance.

They are berated for their ease of conscience.

Such hearts cannot break apart.

They are part of one eternal heart.

The hearts of protesters are soft, but firm.

Such soft hearts are resolute and unbreakable.

Their love of country and of one another

continue to beat strong and full of love.

Such hearts always remember to BE GOOD.

The only way to stop strong hearts

is to capture, perhaps kill, them.

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Hearts connected to one another

always continue to beat on.

Ukraine’s heart beats on.

Gaza’s heart beats on.

Sudan’s heart beats on.

Iran’s heart beats on.

Greenland’s heart beats on.

Canada’s heart beats on.

Central America’s heart beats on.

South America’s heart beats on.

The European Union’s heart beats on.

Minneapolis’ heart beats on.

Chicago’s heart beats on.

Los Angeles’ heart beats on.

The United States of America’s heart beats on.

Freedom’s heart beats strong, 

and beats on, now and forever.

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MAGA MINDS RACING

Getting started is the hardest.

Once begun, everyone runs

to be the first,

or at least to be 

in the crowd

that crosses the finish line

in record time.

Those left out of the race

try to keep pace

along the sidelines

never raising the question

of where they are headed,

or what they might gain.

They simply imagine

there must be a prize.

What a surprise 

to discover there is

none at all.

It was test to see

who would fall

into line.

Their pride is satisfied.

They feel superior

to those who are so inferior

they did not run at all.

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MY FELLOW AMERICANS

MY FELLOW AMERICANS

I hold my tongue.

It takes strength I do not have.

Whimpers escape

On shattered breaths,

In silent screams.

The fight worries my soul,

Battle weary and choking,

On words held tight inside.

Once the scream begins

I doubt I could stop.

I wait for your speech.

I yearn for your promise

To stop the authoritarian

Who has taken over our house,

Emptied its vaults,

Stolen its wealth,

Sold its power

To the highest bidders.

So, I write. That I can do

While I wait for you.

To me, this nothing new.

Do you believe me now?

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WE THE PEOPLE

The people’s house is no more.

Oh, the structure still stands,

It’s East Wing destroyed.

It rose garden paved over.

Its grounds defaced.

It is no longer democracy’s safe space.

No woman, nor child yet protected.

Hidden files of pedophilia and rape

Keep Republican representatives

Of the people away.

No chance to obstruct

as we fearfully watch all we love destruct.

Money directed from its appropriated place

Into the pockets of the man in disgrace,

Who crowns himself king,

And demands all kiss his ring.

Our right to rule ourselves now firmly displaced

By cruelty and hate,

absent a single moment of grace.

There are no longer two sides.

None of us are left with any pride.

We the people now have no place.

Unless we stand together to fight

The destruction of freedoms that are our constitutional right.

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NOT QUITE SILENT

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I listened for the voice today.

This is all it had to say. 

My teacup is filled only 1/3 of the way.

Too little water to boil in the pot.

I shall brew my tea and keep it very hot. 

Then add cooler water to the cup.

No harbor will see tea fill it up.

Not exactly as I had willed.

Seeing my beloved democracy killed.

But who am I your will to sway.

My cup does not “filleth over” this cold day.

The half-empty cup seems a blatant warning.

I refuse to name and bring to life

fearfully expected wounds and strife.

The sun blares and cuts the cold air,

melting frost gathered everywhere.

It lies on every surface it seems.

In schoolrooms, libraries, museums,

in corporation and university board rooms. Next,

on airwaves  and in chat rooms and texts. 

In law firms hallowed conference rooms,

and in SCOTUS decisions which seal our doom.

Hard to find a place where the cruelty of iced hearts 

has not settled in, stopping hopefulness at its start.

Hard to know how this day should begin.

Hard to see how we might win.

No birds gather in the yard to eat, drink and sing.

Worms like words stretch frozen on cement pathways.

Hard to stand and walk boldly, or to see our way.

May will bring flowers in graceful bouquets.

But, June, I think, will have the final say.

May summer be full of grace, I pray.

I listened longingly for the hopeful voice today.

But, this…this is all it had to say,

as I watch sunshine melt the frost away.

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GRIFTERS UNITE

A nation of grifters.

That now seems right.

And the right has taken

grifting to a new level,

right in our sight.

Trump bibles, watches and hats

to grift cash for legal defense.

Elon Musk funds the cache

with his own which once

was our own, using what our

tax dollars created as his own.

Grifters come in all moneyed sizes.

But, the fine print on their offers

is too small to easily read,

hiding their grifting and greed.

Starlink for free to victims

of hurricanes Milton and Helene.

Except it is not free.

And if Musk and Trump succeed.

None of us will be free.

After one month, we will owe

Musk three-hundred forty-nine plus

dollars and service fees. 

Backlash forced him to extend

the grift until the end 

of the year 2024.

when victims will be left

holding the bag and more.

And so grifters appear to be

enlightened and generous and we

their sycophantic beneficiaries,

until it is too late

to shut the fascist gate

being constructed right under our nose.

Grifting away democracy is not new.

It has happened to others before, 

but now, for us, it is way too close.

The grifters have united 

and now so must we.

Vote!

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DANCE IN THE RAIN

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If not too early, perhaps too late

rain falls through parched skies,

in drizzles and drips only;

clouds’ moist linings absorbed

by dried out cells

of the hydrogen and oxygen

we need to survive.

The train’s whistle blows

in drowned out gasps.

Wet skies hold back

the usual click and clack

of dry wheels over steel track.

Iron wheels now slip and slide,

a smoother if more uneven ride.

Wet nights lead to wet mornings

drowning our the train whistle’s warning

of all that is to arrive

during this election drive.

Tom-toms beat quieter drums

to speed up hearts 

and slow down minds

as the train approaches

the nations’s destination.

AI interrupts nature’s offer

to set things straight

without a factual bother,

as facts fall beneath

the slippery wheels,

and we are easily thrown off-track

unsure now what is fiction or fact.

We will all soon be mad as hatters.

Too soon, we wonder if anything matters.

After drought, roots unfold  soundlessly

and it is hard to hear the truth’s refrain.

Our senses our dulled by falling rain.

Our restless sleep disrupts our days.

We are lulled by quieter chants,

but nothing has changed.

Courage now, lads and lasses.

The polls await the arriving train.

We must vote, in sunshine or rain.

Open sad and tired eyes.

Listen with too-numbed ears.

The sounds may be different,

but not the refrain.

Time to vote the danger away.

Time to learn to dance in the rain.

Vote!

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LIES

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The universal lie is

that I never lie.

Always untrue.

We all lie.

We all do.

There are but two reasons why.

Knowing that is seeing true.

Knowing that may save you.

The first lie

may save your injury,

comfort your suffering,

grant you your freedom,

shelter and protect,

uplift and encourage,

open you to love.

The first lie is the oil over 

troubled waters,

is the hidden key 

to new discovery,

is the extra note to more harmony.

The first lie brings peace.

The first lie helps us see

we are part of loving community.

The second lie

causes injury,

increases suffering,

denies our freedom,

makes us feel unsafe.

Discourages our history 

Berates new ideas,

closes us to love with hate.

The second lie is not 

so noble as the first.

The first lie is for us.

The second lie is for the liar.

The first lie sets boundaries

to expand our sense

of love and creativity.

Its purpose is to protect.

The second lie has no “red lines”

it refuses to cross; but, only seeks

to sate the need of the second liar.

The second lie is for him, not us.

The second lie denies our right

to create connections and see the light

that fills all persons whose lives intersect.

It restricts any chance for us to connect.

The biggest liar of them all

is not the first, nor will be the last.

He is simply the liars’ poster boy.

And poster boys never last.

But the lies they tell persist

no matter how many resist

the pull of hate to the surface.

The greatest lie of all

is the one we tell ourselves

that we are somehow better,

somehow best.

We are liars, all.

If not we would have let him fall.

He would join other liars in jail.

Let up hope that soon

truth will finally prevail.

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POETRY’S PATH

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Poetry may hide under rocks, too.

Poems litter the path with words

often unattached

to any reality,

and blocking the way

to progress.

But, poetry exposed to the sun,

and shared with everyone,

opens up paths of discovery.

Poems can be used as tools

to bring back home

fearful fools

who climbed too high,

led astray by fraudsters

who use their fear

to build a gate,

and create hate

to block the way

to unity and community.

Our village awaits

the return of those who thus roam.

Let poetry guide you home.

Leave hate behind.

Make easier your climb,

unfettered by false letters

in tweets and squeaks

by cowards, hour upon hour.

Such false facts weigh you down

more than personal adversity.

Community will share the load,

no matter how hard your road.

Love, not hate, always finds its way.

Come home.

Come home.

Come home.

Today.

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MY REPUBLICAN DAD

ANGELO ANNARINO,SR. WITH DAUGHTER LOUISE

“I just need 11,000 votes.”

“Give me a break.”

Sounds eerily like saying to my daddy,

when I was just a wee lassie,

“I just need $5.00.”

And my Republican dad would reply,

“And I need a hole in my head!”

And that was the end to that.

Because, I had sense 

to know when the game was up,

to know I had lost,

to know I was on my own.

And because, I knew I could do

what I needed to do on my own

I’d get on with life and make it great.

I did not need fawning crowds

shouting hateful slogans aloud

at my Dad, who was right to deny

my weak-kneed pleas to ease my need

for the latest toy, candy, or cookie delight.

My Republican dad believed 

in working his way using his labor and mind

to put food on our table and a roof overhead.

He did not run scams on neighbors

nor friends, nor even total strangers.

My Republican dad, whose Democratic friends

exchanged ideas with him every day

on how to keep our nation great

kept an open mind and used it to find solutions

to unite and expand everyone’s rights

to life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness;

especially, for his children and theirs.

My Republican dad would be turning in his grave.

A conscience stronger than partisanship

would not let him accept such gamesmanship.

I can hear his response to election deniers,

whining while shouting, debased town-criers,

“You talk like a man with a paper hat!”

And that, folks, would be that!

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