Tag Archives: MAGA

ZEN I.D.

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The only escape

is to write your name backwards,

as you disappear.

Sleep cannot compare

when engulfed in a nightmare,

mocking exhaustion.

Sleepless nights unite

tortured souls in free nations,

sensing bombs dropping.

The enemy lurks

behind a fascist facade

we call government.

Overnight votes rule,

hidden by crushing nightmares,

in yours and my names.

The only escape

is to write your name backwards,

as you disappear.

Finally, sleep comes. 

Democratic socialists

take back our freedom.

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WE SHALL OVERCOME

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Grind the beans.

Heat the kettle.

Start the day with verve.

Do not start the day with anything less

than love and hope and nerve.

Love is wiser than all the lies.

Love is bolder than fear.

Love is stronger than greed.

Love is all we need.

Love mends broken hearts and nations.

Love is how we succeed.

Love welcomes each dawn’s transformation,

chaotic though it may appear to be.

The path of love, poets tell us,

ne’er does run smooth.

But with many hearts joined as one,

the chaos can, and shall, be overcome.

So, we raise our cup to smiling lips

and sing a victor’s song.

We shall overcome, my loves.

We shall overcome.

Sing it all day long.

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IN THE DEAD OF NIGHT

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In the middle of the night 

when darkness curries favor

with sleeplessness and fright,

I wander room-to-room

in hopelessness that dawn

will come bearing anything 

more than false light.

Too many days of bold lies

called forth from the darkest 

spaces of twisted minds

force us all to walk in darkness,

and into exhausted days unable

to perform the simplest tasks,

weary beyond all telling,

silenced senses yelling,

deadened and unfeeling.

To feel would be to die,

or die trying

to make sense of such evil.

The cost of others’ greed is too high

for men and women of conscience,

of even Mother Earth herself,

to survive.

There is no answer

to the question, “why?”.

And so, I continue to roam 

dark spaces, seeking answers.

I am woke. I stay awake

to face dark days

and dark nights.

I roam looking for ways

to pull us all to safe spaces

where restful sleep may come.

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HEGSETH, et.al.

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No need for the KKK.

No need for Nazis.

No need for MAGA.

No need for a Tea Party.

Not today.

Pump T not into the harbor,

but into young white men.

Into a military cleared of women,

people of color, and gays.

Young men who joined to serve

in a citizen army meant to save

peoples’ freedoms and the aspirations

of a constitutionally protected nation.

Instead, testosterone infusions

will create such confusion

and a masculinity

straining their humanity

with drugged brutality;

an aggression pumped up in display,

ordered now to act in a way

that serves the few leaders,

not the nation nor its citizens.

Leaders who will not allow soldiers

to show their humanity.

Soldiers drugged to match their leaders’ insanity.

Soldiers sent to control elections.

Soldiers whose protections

are meant only for the wealthy con men

who cheat and steal from honest men and women

working too many jobs to pay attention

to leaders’ lies and disaffection

for principles soldiers were meant to offer protection.

No checks and balances on insanity.

No effort to save our humanity.

First, we must protect our soldiers.

Only then, can we protect ourselves.

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DECLARATION 2026

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It is time to open words stored in safe spaces.

Behind the clock where time passes unaware.

Behind the freezer where thoughts hunger for truth.

Behind the bed where slumber overtakes rage.

November cannot come soon enough for words.

Words cannot wait to learn their fate.

Voices may be denied, decried, deceased.

But, words?

Words persist long after we are gone,

long after we overcome, or we are overcome.

Speak now, beyond the pain and indifference to them.

Speak now while breathing still moves you to act.

Speak now into a future which never looks back.

Speak your words, joined with mine;

words recorded for all time.

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TAKE A MOMENT

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I only want a moment of your time

to reflect upon un-poetic rhyme.

There is so very much to do.

I ask either too little, or too much, of you.

His need for subserviency, adoration and greed

takes no notice your own, real need.

You were never meant to be his white serf,

one-step above Black slaves, laboring on his turf.

The DOJ and SCOTUS handed back the whips

to those who do his bidding as he flips

from cruelty to cruelty arranged by Putin’s calls

plotting and planning The USA’s trips and falls.

Military is used to manipulate stock prices so the wealthy few

can buy low and sell high, with no care for you.

Your coins build a ballroom in which you shall never dance.

A triumphal arch between the Washington Monument and Lincoln’s glance

will be constructed that you may no longer easily recall, nor see

American aspiration to realize true equality.

MAGA,Trump, MAGA,Trump! You chanted your power by chanting the name.

The power was a never his but yours.

The conman wins the game, and dances as he scores.

And you cheered. Oh, yes, you did; even gerrymandered lines of hate

for Democrats, Black citizens, college students in every state.

You joined the game without concern, without a qualm

while team leaders covered up crimes, you stayed calm.

Pedophilies, rapists, liars, cheats and colluders in corruption

steal our nation’s health and wealth and reputation

while you stay silent, subservient and take satisfaction

that you can cheat your way to success in every upcoming election.

Detention centers hide concentration camps, not deportation.

If any one of us is not free, none of us are free, don’t you see?

Or are your eyes only on gas price increases, and food costs?

When will you realize nearly all we love is lost?

Get you head out of the book, your eyes off the screen.

Look around at the suffering, MAGA is offering in between

the crazed tweets and mean-spirited acts by the nation’s elites

who refused to be taxed and share the wealth

they gained from your labor with a soft, thieving stealth.

I only want  moment of your time

to discover the truth inside their rhyme.

Then I ask you to stand, speak, even shout

until every single one of us learns what MAGA is really about.

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BORDERS

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Borders have their uses.

They tidy-up the scene,

remind us where we are,

and where we have not been.

They assign us each a plot

of able responsibility,

and call us to fulfill our task, 

to act responsibly, as we ought.

Like naturalists we name each plot

to recognize ourselves within its place.

We mark paths between each plot,

a  no-man’s land of sea and space.

Borders are a mere tool to use.

They can create more civility.

Or, they can abuse all gentility.

We can move across borders easily.

They were not made to stop humanity

from going where it needs to go

to find food and shelter, water and safety.

There is the rub in such a construction.

It can also lead to self-destruction.

For we are all part of the same family

of men and women descended

from a single source evolving merrily.

Until, each one of us is forced to face

the human weakness that lies within

and threatens our dreams of what we could win

if only we were better than we are.

If we were better, we could reach the stars.

Such anger we cannot allow directed at self.

We look for somewhere to place it,

when it should be put on a shelf,

placed  where it can do no harm

and give us time to calm our alarm

that we are far from perfect, but still okay.

Our personal borders help us hold our evil at bay.

Instead, we project all the fear and rage

from and toward ourselves to others,

other humans being human, idiot or sage.

We  carefully choose a human target

who does not quite look like us;

and not because he is truly different at all.

But in mirrored reflection of our follies

his appearance creates a place we can hide

that we are truly the same person, inside.

It would never do to project our own failings

onto another who looked just like we look.

It would prove the foolishness of railing

against all who look the same-self ailing.

So, we choose to note a difference

to justify our disdain and  discrimination.

We close our borders with determination.

We miss the prize right before our eyes.

We miss the chance to accept our need

for the strength that comes with community.

We forget, for as long as we can,

that differences reinforce each man

and help us each overcome our weakness,

our circular thinking, our useless imagination

and build a stronger human-kind nation

within every border, across every border

until we kind humans no longer fear

our very selves, nor one another.

We could act as sister and brother

and settle our squabbles with love

as part of a human family.

We could project amity  

and, perhaps, save humanity.

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CONFIRMATION SLAP

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There was one day each year our Catholic parish could expect the Bishop to visit. Every year the children in the fourth grade, age 10 or so, made their Confirmation of Faith. We studied the tenets of our faith so we would understand more fully what it would mean to be confirmed. This was critical because  the one thing that sank in was the idea that we would not only promise to live our faith, fully and with integrity; we would pledge to be willing to die for our faith, as many of the Catholic saints had done over the centuries. In fact, we chose a name for ourselves of a saint who inspired us to live our faith as fully as they. I chose Bernadette, a young girl unable to be shaken from her spiritual experiences, despite opposition even from church leaders. She was open to the unexpected, unexplainable mysteries of her faith; courageous and persistent, resilient and humble. She could face down any opposition to live her faith experience.

We had learned through study and life experience that others opposed our beliefs, and especially, our assumed authority to represent Jesus Christ’s teaching . We saw our priests, and even ourselves, as part of the line of succession from Peter the Apostle. A lot of wrongdoing and audacity occurred in between Peter’s time and mine. We were taught to acknowledge errors, correct them and move on. A daily examination of conscience and frequent confession kept us on track.

As a very short child, I led the procession into church. The Bishop asked us a few questions ascertaining that we understood what we were about to promise. I was the first to be confirmed, kneeling at the altar rail, shaking like a leaf, praying for courage. The Bishop spoke the words reminding me that my faith required a willingness to die for Christ. I responded that I would. The Bishop then struck my cheek with a blow so hard those in the back pews could hear the slap, my head snapping to the side. The Bishop looked horrified. I could feel the sting of his hand. I was reminded alright! 

After the service ended, we processed from our pews to the rear of the church, the Bishop and altar servers before us. The Bishop waited for me at the door and joined my parents and family as we stood on the church steps. His handprint was still visible on my cheek. He humbly apologized to me and to my parents. Since I was the first child he had underestimated the strength of his blow, and was mortified. I had never expected to see a mortified bishop. It made my heart open to him as human being, no longer an authority figure. Those moments of my confirmation remain with me, 67 years later, as if they happened yesterday. Over the years I had need of the lessons learned that day.

I learned that faith is not a mind-game, nor a mere consideration. It is a calling to act with integrity, love and compassion. It requires the willingness to suffer for others; to learn them, see them, hear them even when I had to “suffer through” them. I suffered through those I did not like nor respect, as well as those I respected and loved. I learned that those in authority held no power over me unless I gave it to them. I could have withheld respect and forgiveness to a bishop who hit me so hard it hurt. I chose to forgive him and accept his unintended harm. However, I never shirk from showing those in authority the harm they do. It is probably one reason I became a lawyer. I experienced justice that day. Too many in our America do not. It is those we must be willing to die for. Our faith requires it.

I listened to two Catholics, Senator Bernie Moreno from my state of Ohio and Vice-President J.D. Vance defend and protect the President Trump’s unlawful war, threats of genocide, and destructive blasphemy the past few days. They were confirmed. Do they not recall their vow to defend and protect our faith and our church as they attack our Pope? Do they not understand integrity and morality? What did they promise as they affirmed their Catholicism when confirmed? I am not truly surprised because they also seem to have forgotten their vow to protect and defend the Constitution of the United States and Ohio, and the laws of both when they sworn into office as senators and then, Vance, as Vice-President. 

These are not men of conviction willing to suffer for their faith. They are not humble. They lack integrity. They lie. They attack when they should defend… not just the Pope but human beings in Gaza, Iran, Minneapolis, and every city and hamlet in America. They attack instead of defend our people of color, LGBQT and transgender citizens, our women and children, our elderly and disabled, our working poor, our refugees and immigrants. They would suppress votes of students, women, the working poor, the elderly and disabled and brazenly support the provisions in the SAVE act suppressing our votes. All the while they pretend to protect us and our vote. They stay silent while our military is used to perform war crimes, and while our country’s leaders threaten to annihilate others in violation of the Geneva Convention and human rights.

The attack on a Catholic Pope is just part of the plan to replace loving faith and care for others preached by Jesus Christ on his Sermon on the Mount with power and control over others fed by greed and arrogance. It was easy to abuse the weakest among us. Now, they openly abuse a powerful church leader preaching Jesus Christ’s teachings. Of course, Trump posted an AI construction of himself as Jesus Christ. Of course Vance and Moreno, and other republicans think it is meaningless, a joke.  The explanation is as great a lie. It has meaning. It is meant to promote abuse and control at the expense of others. These men were not slapped hard enough when they were confirmed as Catholics. They are not willing to suffer any political nor financial loss to help others. As a Catholic, I hold them accountable and ask them to recall their vows; to their church and to the American people.

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MORE ON WAR

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My father fought the War

to End all Wars.

My Godfather fought the War

that has no end.

My brother fought the War

that was a police action.

My nephew fought the War

undeclared for Kuwait’s liberation

and Hussein’s annihilation.

My great-nephew fights the War

To save an autocrat’s administration.

We all fight the War

opposing cruel opposition to immigration.

Once more, people of peace

protest a war taking place abroad

and its counterpart taking place in our streets.

All to save a man from accusation

of pedophilia, rape and sheer brutality 

who will be asked for an explanation

during his interrogation

which could lead to his incarceration.

Have I got that right?

It is not his sons nor daughter who will fight.

But, yours and mine.

Have I got that right?

It all comes from The Right

so I must be Right

or face the consequences.

Have I got that right?

We make such war at our cost

until all is lost.

Have I got that right?

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BACKED UP SEWER

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No longer can we ignore life

which imitates art 

while art imitates life.

Each part imitates the whole

while the whole

is the sum of its parts.

When the parts break

the whole breaks apart.

The dark drain bears the burden

of  too many broken peaces

and pushes back against gravity;

releases the depravity

and frees the broken whole.

Cleaning crews appear to

remove the waste, fraud and abuse

of leadership run amok among the muck;

Now, so clearly broken, and out of luck.

Hot air blows around every media space

to dry the tears of such disgrace.

Sanitize all you will.

Pack the dirty remnants into opaque bags,

redacted files hidden under seal,

and hide the crimes away.

The sewer can only handle so much

of the dirty secrets we are afraid to touch.

Truth always come to light

when the drain is filled too tight.

Ignoring the dirt contaminates us all,

as we watch the walls of a nation fall.

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