Tag Archives: Republican Party

THE GAME IS OVER

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It is hard to stop this rush toward self-destruction

by a nation so far ahead in the race

no one else could compete and play.

There is no reason to mourn the last mile run

in a race no longer any fun

for any but a very few, 

and fewer still each day in play.

We all know American’s greatest sin

is loving nothing better than a game they can win.

When winning is no longer fun 

we look for someone to blame, and make them pay

for reminding us the game is over

and a new game must be put in play.

And, so, we blamed Joe,

who simply, in so many ways, happened to be

the last leader to toss away the final play.

No one has been a winner since,

nor could be since that final day.

A new game cannot be worth our while

if the top few are the only winners.

The old game with so many losers may be over.

But, we Americans are not over the need to play

a game we all can win,

a game we call Election Day.

Let the new game begin!

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DEMORALIZED

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Newscasters used to tell it like it is.

Now, they are opinionated forecasters.

They still tell us who.

They tell us who said why.

They no longer tell us 

what, when or how.

That would expose the lie.

No wonder we are demoralized

within both its meanings, 

no surprise.

First losses began long ago:

No more manners as a guide.

No more conscience to lower pride.

No respect for others.

No authority recognized.

Second losses are less discreet:

No longer safe in thoughts nor words.

No longer safe on our own streets.

No more hopeful for the best

when every known fact is put to the test.

No more law and order.

Due process now out the door.

Demoralized beyond repair?

The people rise, at last, at last?

Not in anger and outrage.

Peacefully assembling on marching feet.

Nuns, priests, ministers, imams and rabbis

offer a morality well-intentioned if incomplete.

But this is how our story goes.

We are not perfect, heaven knows.

Our moral code is soft and flexible.

Our democratic republic makes it workable.

It offers a way to respect ourselves and one another;

to recognize all as sister or brother.

Immorality is what we see, and vote for?

Approve of, and laugh about too obviously?

See where  we have led ourselves and our country,

fueled by wantoness and greed.

Demoralized we may be.

Still a people willing to fight to remain free.”

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“NOLITE TE BASTARDES CARBORUNDORUM.” – Handmaid’s Tale

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SMALL SPACES SMALL MINDS

AI GENERATED image of Elon Musk, Tim Cook, Mark Zuckerberg

The smaller the space in the head

or in geography, or in any cartography,

The less room for challenges and new ideas.

Facts have only so much space.

They must cling fast to last.

Those who limit themselves

to live inside bubbles 

seldom recognize such troubles.

They are sure of everything

and wrong about nothing.

They have organized their small space

impeccably, intelligently, flawlessly.

So they must be as well.

They have neither time nor space to dwell

upon possible fallacy.

Only those outside the bubble can see

the absolute dangers of such insanity.

It is a new kind of mental illness

born in the stillness of active minds

revolving unchallenged by facts

that would make their theories unwind.

No such persons should be given power

over those who would see freedom flower

with a just and truthful effort, hour upon hour.

Those who live in openly-wide spaces,

who are woke to every possibility,

to every person and new discovery

are shut down and shut out

until autocracy has destroyed democracy.

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STORMY NIGHT

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STORMY NIGHT

Scattered rain was predicted.

The evening news meteorologist

calmly warned of light rain.

Instead, a wild storm came

filling the night with thunder

and meaningless blunder

as lightening broke asunder

a peaceful, if not restful, sleep.

Too wild a storm to venture out in.

A storm to set us back and shut blinds

to keep from seeing or fearing ruin.

This storm rapidly blew in 

while most of us slept.

At sunrise, when I rose, I looked outside,

finally, and see the truth.

It is not what I was told, nor surmised.

The yard is battered.

its inhabitants scattered in burrows;

the garden littered and furrowed

by limbs  dragged and cuffed.

The flag hangs upside down

until it touches the ground

in sacrilege and shame.

The flag holder has been pulled loose,

its screws unscrewed, its anchor

pulled apart and left hanging in dark space

through a night of constant turmoil,

leaving my flag drenched and soiled.

In morning light I could finally see

the upending of  democracy,

right on my front porch

where everyone could if they would

easily see. No neighbor reported

nor interceded to fix a flag so distorted.

But, false solar lights alone

across the yard ways shone,

too low-light to assess 

a flag under duress.

In morning light, in my nightgown I alight

to pull my flag up and close.

I place it upright to stand tall,

allowing the tears soaking it to fall,

that it may slowly dry out with the sky;

held by a newly installed holder,

one stronger and bolder.

I promise you this: the flag, my flag,

will soon again fly safe and free.

As will all of our beloved country.

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NO RETREAT

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My country is not being stolen.

It is being sold to the highest bidder.

Wealth and power

are the voices of the hour.

Not unexpected 

in a consumerism frenzy

fueled by media and investors.

Capitalism has its own axes to grind.

Now, it seems to grind down me and mine.

Turning to fascism is an easy turn of face

for a people untroubled by greed and hate;

for a nation  built on slavery and Jim Crow,

and denial of women’s rights to earn and grow

at the same pace, with the same grace,

all men seem entitled to know.

Religion once again is used to shame

and disgrace anyone unwilling

to bend the knee to fake gods

and destroy all faith

in a democratic republic of equals

with equal rights to remain free

of religious bigotry.

This is an old story, one we left behind

to build a new nation inspired by the divine

rights of all men and women to be free.

Now thugs are granted bounties

to place their heels on our necks.

Military mission which once defended

is now on our own streets, its purpose up-ended.

Wealth and power which once plundered

third world nations for fossil fuel and cash

now plunders our economy and middle class.

Science  once built a solid foundation

for a healthy, productive nation.

All our scientists built is now being turned to ash.

Massive turnouts in the streets.

Massive turnout at polls complete

our voices shouting, “ no retreat! ”

“No retreat! No retreat!”

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PUTINIZATION NATION

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We now live in 

Putin’s America.

Thanks to all of you

who voted

for Trump/Vance

and every republican

in every state house

in every political position.

I could not feel more derision

for you and what you do

every day you stay

silent,

unapologetic,

absolutely pathetic.

A country I thought you loved

more than you hated

women and people of color,

the disabled, war veterans,

children and the elderly,

homosexual and transgendered.

I underestimated your greed.

I underestimated your need

to make yourself

feel better than someone,

than anyone,

else.

I lost your pulse.

My bad!

And, I know you blame me,

and every liberal,

compassionate,

forward thinking

person you see.

So, you bend the knee

and deny democracy

its rightful place

in American History.

Our loss is Putin’s gain.

Your patriotism

has always been feigned.

Mine, yet remains.

My country may not.

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BEGGING FOR WORDS

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How is it

that when silence

seems treason

words resist?

When resistance

seems patriotic

words run away

to a hidden place

even poets

cannot find,

to my disgrace.

I do not fear

my words will 

cause me harm.

I fear I shall harm

my words.

I fear I will harm

my very soul.

I fear words so full

of anger, even hate

shall ruthlessly escape.

So, I shut the gate.

Today, I try to climb

above the world enflamed

by bullies with no shame

and view the world

I once knew.

A world sublime

but not perfect,

trying to be better,

trying to do better,

trying to achieve better

for every single soul.

This is the world of old.

Knowing the past

is good as gold.

Lingering in the past

will not help us be bold.

And being bold I am told

is what brings change,

topples bullies and their ilk,

eases harm and soothes

like a glass of warm milk,

after a harrowing hundred days.

I beg words to come out of hiding.

I beg for law and order abiding.

I beg for the wealthy to fund the fight.

I beg for police and soldiers to do what is right.

I beg for teachers to speak truth and empower.

I beg for journalists and media not to cower.

I beg for leaders to seize the moment.

I beg for clergy to calm the torment.

I beg for the silent to speak aloud.

I beg for neighbors to support each other.

I beg for words to shout together.

I beg for words.

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HEAVEN ON EARTH

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I have no knowledge of Heaven.

I have never been there,

except in dreams.

One thing I do know.

It must be a place where I

am surrounded by goodness,

fairness, compassion

and loving kindness

all of the time.

Heaven is the type of space

where hate has no place.

The sign in my yard

declares it to be so.

But, as we all know,

My selfish concerns sometimes show.

Creating a heaven on earth

may be an impossibility

because of my fragility

and lack of humility.

My human state has a dearth

of courageous purity.

Yet, still, I shall try to create

Heaven on Earth 

as a constant state.

The lack of goodness surrounds me

all too often these cruelty-laden days.

Kindness is the only way to delay

the triumph of evil over good.

I ask all those in my neighborhood

to join my effort, feeble though it be.

Any small kindness is stronger than cruelty.

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THE DEEP SLEEP

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Words fail to awaken on the page

when words fail.

Words dreamlike fight rage

in nightmarish schemes

when words fail.

Before Liberty shut her eyes,

and with despairing cries,

fell into freedom’s now-unsafe harbor

words gave us wings to fly

and above all troubles soar.

Now, words shut down

as they are shot down

as all around us words are bound

with hateful cruelty

demanding fealty

to lying thieves

upending beliefs

in a common humanity.

It is sheer insanity

and words fail to do it justice.

Lower courts words fall before SCOTUS’s lust 

for false security, the only surety

that this is how nations fall into the dustbin of history.

Words are buried so deep

they too soon fall asleep

to escape the pain of obscurity.

That the people rise

is no surprise.

Whose words will act as guide

to peaceful resolution

and a safe conclusion

to those shoveling dirt into our eyes

and blinding us to truths that must not subside

into a deep sleep

to avoid seeing those who weep?

Who will speak now?

Is anyone still awake, still woke?

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FREE THE STRAWBERRIES

Louise’s strawberry garden fenced to keep out chipmunks, squirrels,racoons,deer,rabbits,skunks and a variety of birds; allowing in rain, helpful pollinators, and insect enemies of other harmful insects. Rest assured the gate will be turned right side up and our American garden will once again flourish and produce sweet fruit. Patience and effort, constant weeding out those harming the garden. It takes time and is well worth the effort.

The fence is placed all around

The strawberries are in the ground.

The gate is upside down.

The harvest will be delayed

Dismantling what we made

hour by our, day by day.

Chaos alway brings change.

Gardens too rigorously defended

make fences necessarily upended

to reach fruit not intended

for anyone but a few

who fence out themselves, too. 

What is the gardener to do?

A gate is meant to let us through

to the crop we worked for,

and many of us died for,

a free country we yearn for.

We thought we planted within our reach.

We thought we had enough freedom to teach.

We never thought we would beseech

tearing down everything we had built

to avoid admitting our guilt.

The gate MAGA made is all atilt.

The fence is too high, clearly.

We are just so frustrated and weary.

We may never eat another strawberry.

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