Tag Archives: Republican Party

MOURNING CUPPA

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The steam rises

then falls

the heat so intense

it moves water

contained in its place

full of promise of a safe space.

Boiling water bubbles slowly

moves the air in structured grace.

The heat so intense

the water’s breath struggles

to escape its place

through a too-tight space.

Water whistles its distress

and warns of eruption,

possible destruction

of water’s very life and form

No longer able to flow in norms,

left on the stove-top too long 

over too high a heat,

preparing for 2025 promises

unneeded, unwanted, unexpected.

The pot empties indecently.

No sudden soggy mess;

just scattered patterns of distress.

All we wanted was a cuppa tea.

That tea thrown overboard

not so long ago.

Now, heat too intense

begins to melt the pot itself.

Overheated, its healing waters

empty into dry, thin air.

Air too thin and too tired to care,

that hot air cannot fill our need for tea.

Our tea cups remain bare.

The only cuppa I may ever again see

is the one left in my memory.

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AWAKENED

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This is no way to wake up.

Perhaps, it has become the only way.

We may have stayed asleep too long.

we may have missed the call

of our immigrant ancestors.
We may have been too deep in our own dreams.

We may not have heard the alarm

in the voices of those awake,

and made to suffer

while we dreamt on.

We may have found dreams

easier to focus beyond

the painful reality

that comes with the dawn.

Becoming awake means

it is not too late

to set aside hate

which weakens all bonds,

and love our country enough

to make it strong enough

to end the nightmares.

We can and we must 

awaken to a new dawn.

I am awake and I quake

in the light made by evil heat

that feels punishing and wrong. 

Today, I uneasily awake

determined to push on

past those who tell us

some of us

do not belong.

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KNIVES AND FORKS

“A lot of people don’t have much food on their table

But they got a lot of forks and knives

And they gotta cut somethin’ “

-TALKIN’ NEW YORK, Bob Dylan, 1962

It all looks so normal out there

Sitting in a garden chair

Winds drying out the humid air.

Children ride their bikes in the street

Shouting out challenge to those they meet.

Everything looks tidy and neat

Like the 1200 men stowed like trash behind the door

Confined to Cecot, deprived of the rule of law

Hidden and forbidden to leave El Salvador.

Only a few are known criminals, most with misdemeanors 

Like parking tickets, who need an intervenor

To explain confining the innocent is certainly meaner

Than recognizing fraternities are simply rich kids’ gangs

And poverty creates such hunger pangs

That forks are not much use and knives have to cut

Something.

Following daily routines can also be mean

When we ignore so easily the suffering of the poor

So easily victimized while we stand with false pride

Crying on social media at what we have lost,

Free to do so without much cost

Until we discover it is too late to shut the garden gate

And take to the streets dodging kids on  bikes

And march in the parks alongside dogs on the leash

As we try not to see how leashed we are.

This is not normal. We are not normal. 

We search to find normal any way we can, just

Something

before the knives come out.

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LAST BREATH

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What is the period of mourning

when a nation dies before our eyes?

Not in sudden cardiac arrest,

not like a slow cancer.

nor a natural aging

of its body politic.

But, like a chronic illness

which has worsened over time,

sometimes in remission

allowing hope to remain alive.

But, when death’s grip pries

the life from every cell

which protected a nation from demise

and its heartbeats accelerate

at a far too barbaric rate,

what then? How can hope survive

when our national freedom dies?

The violence, the bombs, the rubbled ruin 

comes after the next election, I fear. 

The election may save us from loss

of freedom, but at a cost.

Like Ukraine, we can take a nation back

by electing constitutional, loyal leaders

and set our enemies off to the side.

Like Ukraine, our enemies will regroup

and ferociously and physically attack

what they could not seize by stealth.

They will never let go of power and wealth

which we allowed them to take during this

DOGE-dealing, Heritage Foundation steal.

Courts may save us for a time.

But, be prepared.Everything is on the line.

And the mourning is ever-ceasing

for those who see the fate

of a nation which for too-long

embraced its power and its wealth, 

and allowed itself to hate.

Slavery was our original sin and set the stage

for all the other hate and division

that has led to this time of fear and outrage.

How long is the mourning period for such a loss?

It has been my entire life; yet, my hope has endured.

But, my body senses death at my nation’s door.

And, I fear I simply cannot take it anymore.

What is the end to this period of mourning?

Every cell in the body politic is warning

that this nation, our beloved nation

may be close to its last breath.

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DADDY DEAR

ANGELO ANNARINO,SR. WITH DAUGHTER LOUISE

Sitting at my young Dad’s knee

with thoughts swirling all about me

I had to know what the larger world

was trying to tell me, and help me see.

Daddy, daddy, daddy dear,

lend this little daughter your ear.

Why do they call Japanese people Japs?

Why do they call German people Krauts?

Why do they call Italian people Dagos?

Why do they call Arab people Towel Heads?

Why do they call women Cunts?

Why do they call Viet-Names people Gooks?

Why do they call African-American people “N”?

Why do they call Jewish people Kikes?

I do not understand, but it feels bad.

Sweet girl, my Daddy replied 

with a glance and shrug quite mortified.

In the military I learned the reason why.

It is enough to make a grown man cry.

But, I shall tell you the reason why.

It is hard to kill a fellow human being.

It is easier to kill someone you do not see

is as human and wonderful as you and me.

It makes it easier to harm, and wound, and kill.

It is easier to demean, and hate, and impose our will.

Undocumented refugees become “Illegals.”

Asylum seekers become “gang member criminals.”

Confucius said presciently, “The ordering of society

begins with the rightness of words.”

Republicans 2025 say, “The destruction of society

begins with the wrongness of words.”

FOX “news” is not news at all; 

yet, keeps too many in its thrall.

Karoline Leavitt tries to make us believe

good questions allow her answers to deceive.

Pam Bondi investigates her own untruths,

accusing her accusers of being uncouth.

Kristi Noem prances and dances before the gates

of concentration camps, seeking a date?

Such liars are pretty, dainty and sweet.

Americans, especially young men, fall at their feet.

How do truth tellers compete?

The jousters of old travelled from court to court,

making jokes of despots’ overreach without harm.

No dungeons for jousters in the good ole’ days.

Now, the jesters are banished from dinners to honor

newspersons dedicated to uncovering liars and lies;

and Amber Ruffin’s scheduled comedic performance

is suddenly, fearfully, cowardly cancelled.

Truth now lives in the dungeons, walking there

willingly, and blind. Such willfulness rankles.

When the words are removed and truth set aside,

it is easier to harm, wound and kill 

without losing one’s pride.

How proud will we be when we realize 

we killed our country to save our pride?

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DOUBLE DEALING DOUBLE MEANING

https://www.msnbc.com/rachel-maddow/watch/trump-exposed-in-hot-mic-moment-planning-further-abuse-of-power-237422661695

The ordering of society begins 

with the rightness of words, you see.

Their inside and outside meanings

do not always concur in transparency.

Two meanings obscure our sight.

Twisted thoughts create fear 

and we ask “Could this be right?”

Disordering of society begins

with the wrongness of words you see.

Especially when those words are heard 

on hidden mics with no transparency.

Explanations then abound 

with double meanings and falsities

to lead astray the citizenry.

The rightness of words become criminal

when dictators try to hide their true meaning

and freedom is reduced to the minimal

truth allowed, aloud.

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IT IS ALL TRANSACTIONAL

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I lifted the blind, closed against the heavy weight of darkness.

But, the darkness lingers still in a world where the ability to see

has become transactional instead of factual.

It is all about the money, we now see.

Truth is no longer able to set us free.

The heavy weight of lies shackles and chains us

and keeps us in our place, where lack of opportunity

now extends beyond those once enslaved.

Too many blindly bow to the oligarchs who stole a nation’s wealth

and put the blame not on themselves, but on everyone else.

It is the people of color, women and homosexuals;

the immigrant and refugee, asylum seekers, librarians,

historians, veterans, unions and universities…

the truth-tellers the upper 1 percent would hide

to save their greedy selves, and tame their shame

behind a white Christian nationalism’s false pride.

Resentment has been nurtured over decades of time,

hardened into stone and fossilized, with guns loaded and primed.

Do not shoot the messengers who only try to lift the blind

and tell the truth you need to hear, about those who put you in this bind.

The sun shouts in voices of students and grandmothers,

unionists and progressives who only want to remind

the leaders still in place, but powerless as institutions crumble,

that we the people will never give up the freedoms  so hard-won.

We will not allow the tyranny of the greedy few to rule 

over  the nation and world we love, never over me and you.

Have we become what we fear most ? A nation of cowards and bullies?

Are we strong enough to lift the blinds and see the truth, finally?

Are we asleep at the post, we guardians of freedom’s hope?

Has greed brought us all to our knees before those who wield wealth

as a cudgel, a chain saw and a weed whacker 

to root out those who seek equal opportunity to build wealth, and be free?

Are we willing to worship the new gods of control, corruption and greed?

It is always about the money; transactional, not factual; selfish, not loving.

Has our beloved community and country been brought to its knees?

Is our ability to love now simply and blindly transactional?

Is no one left to hear our heartfelt, truthful pleas?

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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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DEAR PROTESTERS

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We see you. We hear you. We stand beside you.

But now, in spirit, bowed down 

by age, and illness, and disability

we no longer meet you at the march in body.

The feet and legs no longer allow

standing on the corners, hugging the curbs,

marching along with you one-by-one.

The hands and arms no longer allow

lifting the sign, carrying messages aloft,

marching along with you one-by-one.

We can still lift a pen, still lift a brush.

We know it is not nearly enough

to calm the heart, comfort the soul

or change a stiff and unrelenting mind.

It is enough to calm, comfort and awaken

our weakened, weary, warrior selves.

We send our spirits to stand beside you

as you march along one-by-one.

We can remind you and all who watch

that more stand with you than they can see.

You are not alone

as you march to keep us free.

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LITTLE AGITATOR,WHY? BECAUSE!

Louise Annarino, J.D.- The Little Agitator, age 2

Do you recall a nickname from your childhood? Perhaps what your mother called you, how she referred to you? What does it tell you about yourself now? Where do you feel it ? Can you find the love within it? Or, was it something that calls your identity into question ? Can you find humor in it? Or at least make peace with it ?

My Mom had 2 ways she frequently described me, called for me, referred to me. She told me and others I was her “Little Why-Because”. It was frustrating for her to have a daughter who questioned the “why” behind every order, demand or simple request. A daughter who could not accept a simple answer to why night happened.  Who persisted questioning every response, such as earth and sun rotation, with the question, “But, why does the earth rotate? and why around the sun?”. Her final answer was inevitably, “Because.” And, my final question was always, “But, why ‘because’?”.

The second nick-name and descriptor she used to define me to myself and to others was her “Little Agitator.” At first I was clueless at this description, for it seemed to upset her. The only agitator I knew was in the washing machine. It seemed to be  a wonderful thing because it helped make our clothes clean. I was flattered until I understood she did not intend to flatter me. Yet, it still seemed a fine thing to be. It challenged the dirt of lies and unkindness.It challenged the bullies in our neighborhood. It kept my brothers in their place. It seemed boys and men constantly picked apart girls and women. Agitating them seemed a fine way to clean up that mess. I became a stronger agitator with every effort to set thinks right.

So, despite fearing being an agitator in attempting to clean up the life and lives around me, I embraced the role. Despite exasperating family, friends, school teachers, professors, priests ( I was thrown out of religion class twice) and nuns by asking “why”, I relished the discussion and discovery in challenging the status quo. 

Being both a “why-because” and an “agitator” was a helpful combination. I was not a “know-it-all’; but, a “I know nothing so explain it, and you, to me.” Once I understood the place of conflict or hurt, I could agitate to make it better. Agitation alone is not enough to set things right. First we must take the time and ask enough questions to truly understand the need for change, and how to fix things without causing more pain.

American leaders in all walks of life are so focused on making money and attaining power they have not taken the time to ask questions and get to the final “because.” Why do we need a Dept. of Education? What does it do? Why do we need Social Security, SSI, Medicare and Medicaid? What do they do? Why do we need Affirmative Action, diversity and inclusion programs? What do they do? What messes have we Americans made? How do we clean them up? Why do we need courts, laws and regulations? What do they do?

You see my point. What is happening to our country now is an abomination. Elected leaders in the former Republican Party (now a dictatorship in the making) have never taken the time or made the effort to truly see the American people because they have not cared enough to do so, not cared enough to ask, “Why?” Their only concern is how can they reduce cost so we can give tax breaks to the wealthiest Americans we hope emulate. We look for scape-goats to explain why the “big boys” do not share with us, while we watch the crumbs from their table blow in the wind. Cost-cutting is a ruse because the Republican Administrations have repeatedly increased the national debt, while Democratic Administrations have repeatedly reduced the national debt. The tax cuts now headed our way will only increase the debt. The firing of government employees and dismantling of the watch-dog programs will only increase corruption and the national debt, as money disappears into the pockets of private contractors planning to take over education, the military, law enforcement, the postal service, health care and social services. Privatization introduces profit motive which increases costs, and provides greater investment returns for the wealthy who are being excused from tax burdens. Our middle class has been under a destruction plan since the 1980s. It is now coming to fruition. There cannot be a democracy without a strong middle class.

We need more agitators, asking more questions.

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