Get Your Premium Membership

Picture This

Picture this. Exploding pipe bombs. Land fields that can take your arms off. Driving off road, and frenzied, with excitement Adrenaline RAGING. Oh, yes, Syrian Teenagers, It is “Let’s See If We Are Really Alive” day. Okay, we’ll let in some Africans too, but Only if they are wearing hoodies. The Mexicans want to join us? Okay, but you have to climb the T-Wall first, As a little joke, to amuse the Donald. Yes, it is happy MIND Field Day in America! We got tweeted the details last night. It’s like Hunger game Day, and Grab the Poppies Day. HAHAHAHA Why would I use the other word? I’m not the misogynist racist tweet-stupid chicken bully! I’m not even allowed to say “You’re fired.” So, today in the land of “Let’s see if you’re alive We have a side game called “Let’s go after Syria So the Congressmen and Senators Who only want to keep their jobs at all of Our expenses, And possibly the expense of the Social security fund which they Have decided to STEAL from us…. The Congressmen and the Senators Who are also learning how to tweet And be stupid declared today “I won’t have to show my taxes or Pay a vendor day, and the little guy Can play in the exploding pipe bomb field Because it keeps the adrenaline pumping, And we want to see if they are really alive.” Hey, I’m in! I am the first in line. I want to take my jalopy and drive recklessly Across the mind field. I really really do! Some younger women are behind me, laughing Because they think not only am I invisible, but I cannot hear them. I can hear you making fun of me I tell them, In my mind because I’m polite and socialized and I’m so excited about the races and the thrill of almost Being killed minute by minute with the stuff they are going to Catapult in – toilets, old refrigerators, Russian foot soldiers, etc. That I can BARELY think straight. “Excuse me, ma’am,” the handsome door man says. “Excuse me.” He excuses me and a bunch of excited young men And Bernie Sanders and a mask-wearing Bette Midler, And we all stare at each other in anger as all of the young Available beautiful WHITE ladies are ushered in. All of a sudden I realize all the beautiful young gorgeous Brown ladies are still out here with us and I start screaming And shouting and tearing it up. Bette and Bernie understand immediately. The three of Us lead the fray, and we become a mighty mob and We are yelling and screaming and demanding our Turn until we look in the glass T-tower walls and See the mayham that is taking place. Young beautiful White women are being killed and maimed with pipe Bombs, and three-headed dogs are ripping their legs off And stuff. There is blood and screaming and gruesome Real tearing them up over there. The others are watching In horrified fascination, and I can watch no more. I turn away and begin to cry. I cry that America has become so corrupt That a misogynist chicken-bully who professes To be a rapist could have been elected to office In our country. I cry that we have elected a President who Did not pay any of the little guys when they worked For him – the plumbers, the electricians, the tile layers, the air conditioning men. I cry that the only ones who thought they Were admitted to the T-arena to participate In “Let’s See if They Are Alive Day” were young White women, not those of us in hoodies, or those Of us from Africa, or the Irish, or any of the young men. I guess it makes sense. Because the ones whose vote counts now are the Hillbillies, and the trailer trash, and the glued-to-the-Fox REAL news channel people, The non-thinkers, The non-dreamers, The ones who get Angry if we want to Abolish the electoral College, because we would like a vote too. Please ignore all of this; I don't do politics in Kansas, where only the elitist Republican's vote count. I am learning.

Copyright © | Year Posted 2018




Post Comments

Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.

Please Login to post a comment

A comment has not been posted for this poem. Encourage a poet by being the first to comment.