Poems for Trump #53 My Doctor tells me

My Doctor Tells Me ...

My doctor tells me I spend far
too much of my waking life on
The Great Orange One & she 
may be right but then again
what can I do when day to day
life seems to mirror his surly
& desperate antics.

There's my neighbour Luis & his
family who I need to wonder if
one of these days they'll just no
longer be there but driven over
bumpy roads to an old life in
a destitute village or strife-ridden
Central American landscape.

There's my son's friend Mustava,
absorbing sponge-like the daily
briefing of hate & ignorance which
depict his family & their religion as
a direct threat to all we hold dear
& we'd better look out & take special
care where those oh so alien folks
are concerned.

There's newsreel, oh newsreel, of
desecrated grave-stones, saluting
fascists, oh so empowered & brutal
thinking supremacists & simple
vicious country boys.

There's chants & adulation fit
for a French Sun-King of the late
17th Century & visions of gold bidets
marble faucets, designer dresses &
portly men swinging clubs over
manicured flag-bedecked greens,
while lonely sons stay home &
wonder.

There's 'enemy of the people' &
bigger, mightier, number one again
& us first & oh yes you'd better pay
attention because we're after you
no matter how or why or what.

Everyday life is a fog of orange
vanity & thuggery & me trying to
pretend otherwise just won't cut
it at all & thats what I told her &
she reluctantly agrees & so life
goes on ... Dense, Orange &
Flickering Dubious Headlined.