Tag Archives: trump

THE RAINS CAME AND CAME AND CAME

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We keep thinking

it cannot become any worse

this placid earth 

awash in excess or in drought.

Hibiscus big as dinner pates

strung among drenched leaves,

hangs in drooping loops to the ground.

Sun makes its way warily

through clouds weighing the sky down,

new-born leaves water-logged and drowned.

The heavy weight of watered threats

is nearly too much to bear.

Too heavy to breathe, saturated, air

keeps me waiting inside,

Parched lips and  dry-aged skin

too thin to accept such weight again,

hangs loose, losing all pride;

jealous of the hibiscus

which still stands tall

strong enough to resist it all.

I anxiously await a break in the clouds,

days of hope and rest in the sun.

Even the earth is in tears these days.

Like a child I hold my sign and sing aloud

“Rain, rain, go away. Come again

another day.” Or not. Never again

should we women and men

so misbehave and reduce our gardens to tears.

Photo by Mariya B. on Pexels.com

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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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MY MOTHERS TAKE TO THE STREETS

Angela Abbruzzi (Abbruzzese) Annarino, age 16, at her high school graduation from Curtis High School, Staten Island, NY, 1940.

“Her money is just as green as mine,”

my mother told the clerk who passed over

the African-American woman waiting

at the counter before we arrived.

“She was here before us, after all.”

The clerk then moved beyond us 

to a white woman who had just arrived.

My mother went to her side 

and told her politely,

“You must wait your turn,” 

to the woman’s surprise.

All commerce stopped 

at that counter

on that day.

And my mother taught me 

what I think of today.

Always speak up at injustice.

Always seek fairness for all.

Always let your voice be heard.

Always ask for others to join your cause.

Never leave anyone standing aside.

Never be afraid to act with pride.

Today, hundreds of thousand of women

such as my mother are on our streets

in thousands of protests 

for justice

for fairness

for democracy

for our pride

as Americans

whose strength resides

not in military strength

but in the Bill of Rights

threatened openly by a fool

who like all fools

thinks he is king

This fool says

Anyone who protests

his $45 million birthday parade

will face “very heavy force.”

He never met my mother !

He will today.

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D-DAY TODAY

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I learned of D-Day from newsreels

 shown in between double-features

at the Saturday morning movies

which cost a quarter

at our local theatre. 

I learned of D-Day listening

at the feet of my father

hidden under the kitchen table

where Daddy spoke with buddies

who went to war with him

after years of childhood friendship.

I learned of D-Day in school

where we studied WW II,

and ignored the study of Viet-Nam,

while fellow students were drafted

to go fight a different war.

Korea was seldom mentioned 

anywhere but among the men

like my cousin who survived the fight.

I learned of D-Day from movies

like OVERLORD, and later,

SAVING PRIVATE RYAN.

But, those images had already been ingrained

on the bank of memories lodged in my brain.

Images of certain death

where the words “last ditch effort”

were not mere metaphor, but a lesson to

never make war, nor allow it to cross our shore.

Today is D-Day, not in reverent remembrance,

but as a last-ditch call for the war

that we face against crony capitalism,

corruption, Putin international mobsters

posing as politicians; heads of national security,

homeland security, and even presidents.

Greed brought war within our shores.

This is our D-Day hidden inside fake news,

and Project 2025, and a budget reconciliation

package too large to read or report upon,

Too quickly pushed through by enemies

of state we call Republicans,

but who are nazis manning bunkers

Photo by Hub JACQU on Pexels.com

called The Great Wall like the one 

our fascists try to build  along our southern border.

To keep brown people out? Or keep us in?

Is America becoming a giant camp

concentrating those exercising free speech,

free movement and all dissent beneath the thumb

of authoritarian diatribe and power, making us numb

and willing to cooperate with endless hate?

I honor those who once fought to save the world

and keep it free from hate and bigotry,

and create a fair economy which served us all.

I see the last ditch in my mind with no need to recall.

It lives on every street, in every neighborhood,

in every school board meeting, and City Hall;

in governor’s mansions and courts of law.

It is still alive these many years

and brings anger along with tears

burning the back of my throat

as I mourn those who breached the fascist wall

and those whose bodies I imagine afloat

off Omaha and Utah Beaches, and now, in our cities.

And I remember, as if it is today. It is. Such a pity.

Community members clash with ICE, other federal officers, Minneapolis police, and other state officers as officials raid Las Cuatro Milpas in Minneapolis, Minnesota Tuesday, June 3, 2025. (Photo by Nicole Neri/Minnesota Reformer)

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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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MAMA

Angela Abbruzzi (Abbruzzese) Annarino, high school graduation at age 16

Let’s start a new movement in America.

It is not too late to start anew.

I know I can count on most of you.

We shall call it MAMA,

Make America Motherly Again.

We have had our fill of paternalism.

Let us try maternalism.

We can feed every child meals 

to feed their bodies, hearts and souls.

We can tenderly listen to ease the loneliness

of every grandparent, taking on their former role

as caretakers and dream-makers.

We can heal the sick and ease the way

of those whose minds are different so

all of us can live, love and laugh together.

We can build solar and wind energy makers

to ease the threat of out-of-control weather.

We can offer a living wage to those who labor

on behalf of every family, everywhere.

We can lead our children in private prayer,

within our own homes, and leave to others

whatever prayer, or none, they choose.

We can teach our children well, and if we do,

they will also learn to be good, for the common good

of every person on the planet, like me and like you.

Are you ready? Mothers’ Day will soon be here.

MAMA is on the march to a loving place

of freedom and peace, absent all fear.

We can wear hats, aprons and gloves in blue

A blue hat to block out the heat of hate on any face,

a blue apron to protect the garments of democracy we sow,

and blue gloves to protect hands worn thin by our work

to make our need-to-be renewed nation grow.

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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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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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