Trump

Festering orange lump,

A clown,

A grump,

Not a tree

But a stump,

A veritable

Toxic dump,

Of humanity

Trump,

A bad case of the mumps,

A clod,

A clump,

A constant pain in the rump,

A bump.

A stinking sump pump,

With a hump.

It's time to

Fire this chump

A Poem

A brain inflamed, misfiring,
Closed loop of despair on repeat,
Palpitations keeping time
An off beat composition of fear in overdrive,

A heart tired of feeling,
A soul tired of being,
A rented room full of tears
And empty cigarette packages

An artist without a canvas,
A musician without a note,
An angel of empathy
Absorbing shit that can’t be flushed.

A body aging, aching,
A life of privilege and observation,
So much selfish destruction
And anger.

A life lived in relative safety,
Wishing the same for all,
Witness to monstrous atrocity
With no way of stopping it.

A world turning, oblivious,
Spinning and not caring,
About the pretentious humanity
Defiling her.

A poem, a pointless exercise,
Sounds interesting to the ear,
Will not heal the wounds
That bleed freely, hate and fear.

Love weeps, and waits for a better day. 

This Missing Love. (To a Bigot)

What is it you hate about me,
Am I too this, too that,
Not enough of the other thing.
Maybe a tad too different,
Not quite like you,
Not your favorite old sweater,
Perhaps a bit uncomfortable.

What is it you hate about me,
Am I too queer, too fat, too colourful.
Not enough normal for you,
Not enough same,
Not a beer with the guys,
Or a pizza on Tuesday night,
What is it.

What is it you hate about me,
Is it the air I breath,
The blood in my veins,
The feelings that resemble your own
greatest fear.
Are you afraid you might actually
Have to care about something,
Are you afraid of your own humanity.

What is it you hate about me,
Is it something I said,
Is it something you learned
From your prejudiced pecking order peers.

What is it you hate about me,
Is it the fact I make you think,
Make you face your own stone cold heart.
Make you face your own personal shit.

What is it,
This hate.
What is it,
This anger.
What is it,
This missing love.