Tag Archives: politics

Landay – Day 6


We are not free, to feel what we feel
to say it out loud, to say what we think, to be real.

I’m afraid if I tell you the truth
you’ll reject me as other…it won’t matter, the proof.

When did voting become a dagger,
a weapon of hate wielded by carpetbaggers?

It’s not that our politics don’t jive
But it’s the pleasure you take harming innocent lives.

Landay – The Landay is the poetic form of Afghan women. The poem is 22 syllables long and contains 2 lines. 9 syllables in the first and 11 in the second. Rhyme is not specifically called for but a great many do rhyme at the end of each line. Subjects can include, but are not limited to, war, separation, homeland, grief, or love.

Pronunciation/Etymology. In Pashto, “landay (LAND-ee)” means “short, poisonous snake,” likely an allusion to its minimal length and use of sarcasm. Landays (or landai) often criticize traditions and gender roles.

yeah but

ima jus gonna leave this here. not sayin’ i told you so…but yeah…
yeah but…

when you said
I’m crazy


it will never
happen, you said
it’s just about
saving babies


the ugly truth is
they don’t care about
babies or children
or you…it’s power
they crave…and your soul


Caught the news yesterday…bad idea 😖

sevenling (empire)

sevenling (empire)

how pitiful to watch soulless politicians
clamor for power, grovel
for endorsements, beg for votes

we the people left wanting it would seem
for compassion, liberty, justice
trading trust for lies, vote by vote

was it barbarians at the gate caused Rome to fall, or complicity?


The Greatest in the History of All Things Great, Greatness – NaPoWriMo/GloPoWriMo Challenge Day 16

The Greatest in the History of All Things Great, Greatness

We had the most beautiful piece of cake!
Everyone tells me it’s so, believe me,
except for fake news, they’re the enemy,
phony, the worst, agents of the deep state.

I always win bigly, losers I hate.
Mistakes? I don’t make them, never, not me.
We had the most beautiful piece of cake!
Everyone tells me it’s so, believe me.

I promise to make America great.
It’s going to be tremendous, you’ll see.
I alone, stable genius…covfefe…
loved by Vlad Putin, Kim Jong Il, and Xi.
We had the most beautiful piece of cake!


For NaPoWriMo/GloPoWriMo Challenge Day 16: write a poem of over-the-top compliments. Pick a person, place, or thing you love, and praise it in the most effusive way you can. Go for broke with metaphors, similes, and more.

Well, I had a bit…oh hell, I had a tremendous, stupendous time poking political fun today. I know of no other politician who is more well versed in over-the-top, extravagantly, effusive self-adulation and duplicity than President 45. I used a Rondel, a French form consisting of 13 lines: two quatrains and a quintet, rhyming as follows: ABba abAB abbaA. The capital letters are the refrains, or repeats. 


Sunday’s Week in ReVerse – 30 September 2018


There is an air of despair and hopelessness, as bitter old men ram through a questionable candidate for the highest court in our land, to reign over us for a lifetime. 

Our nation was riveted to ‘credible’ testimony laced with accounts of a lifetime of pain resulting from trauma and responded to with pent up privileged rage. It left us tearful and aghast, this spectacle that summed up the chasm between us. It left us with more questions than answers and a clear view into the soul of an elite powerful class in the final throws of power. It revealed to us that there is nothing the powerful will not do or say to keep their power, the rest of us be damned. 

There is a pattern to the assaults on equality, dignity, and fairness that has transpired over the past few years. Among those in power are the privileged, old white men and their fawning little women, and evangelical pro-lifers who are happy to sell their souls if it means edging them closer to a dystopian heaven on earth a la Gilead (see Handmaid’s Tale). Those who suffer abuse at the hands of this power base are disproportionately female, young, sick, poor, marginalized, ethnic, immigrant, or people of color. Heaven, it seems is only for the chosen and we are all painfully reminded daily who is chosen and who is not. We know them by their fruits as their tome reminds us. Rotten to the core, but ever righteous according to this twisted doctrine, their transgressions covered in the blood of the lamb (aka the meek). That referenced verse is ironic in a terrifying way. 

It’s not for me to say who’s telling the truth. The fact is, truth doesn’t really matter. What I do know is what cannot be unseen…the spectacle of this candidate for a position on the Supreme Court’s performance. It smacked of his being temperamentally unhinged, rage-full, vindictive, and blatantly partisan as revealed by his own words when he repeated wild conspiracy theories against democrats. If he is pushed through to that esteemed seat on the bench, will we ever be able to trust in the wisdom, justice and impartiality that our founders envisioned? I think not. Of all the tragedies that have resulted from this week of blight, this is the worst and most far reaching damage anyone can imagine. It is stunning to witness. Democracy unraveling.

Sunday’s Week in ReVerse – 30 September 2018

and the moon’s made of cheese
there, waiting in the dark…
to feed your narcissism
if you remember all who came before you
life has a way of surprising us.
thoughts, words mean nothing
when tossed into a cesspool
tick tock so very slowly
she weeps fallow fronds,
as smoke with no fire
truth hid, on holiday
morning will never bring peace
never too late for a do over
dreams never end
believing a thing,
wounds too deep to heal unaided,
it just was’t in the cards.


A ReVerse poem is a summary poem with a single line lifted from each entry of a collection of work over a particular timeframe and re-penned in chronological order as a new poem. Unlike a collaborative poem, the ReVerse features the words of one writer, providing a glimpse into their thoughts over time. I use it as a review of the previous week.

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