to the winner who lost the popular vote:
i did not vote for you.
i did not vote for dripping, crimson coat
pleading privacy, surrendering
i did not vote for the homeland to
off of the tongue,
for wide-eyed mistrust, to finally realize
how vulnerable one is.
i did not vote for the bending
of reality; the
Normalization of humanity’s
Inhumanity. she seems quite content,
though, even as blood —
blood, that’s right, blood!
oh, i know you’re familiar with it,
blood coming out of her…
or as you like to so eloquently declare,
oh, please. you think your limited knowledge of anything,
is a grand gilded door to
in case your minuscule hands
are unable to grasp my point,
or even grab them like a feline,
i’ll spell it out:
this is an uprising,
rocket-fueled, ready to run,
resolved to make you pay.
easy. your insecurity
protected by that repugnant,
rancid slime you ooze. it shelters
everything in a thick layer of
let’s drench you in vinegar,
see what happens
to that slime;
a terrified detainee at terminal 4, humiliated –
round them up like cattle
a civil rights activist, skull fractured, is all talk –
but does he Tweet?
an elderly couple, both disabled, questioned for miles –
you don’t belong here
a Holocaust, a memorial day, no mention of Jews –
purging history of reality
a frantic mother, held from her detained 5-year-old son –
you still don’t belong here
a dissidence, a dissident, a moral argument –
you are not poetry.
you are everything
poetry vows to battle.
i own you.
i take your essence and mold it,
shaping it into a
everyone can understand
and spit upon.
you did not win the popular vote;
you are not our voice
and you will never be.
(Note: The indented lines should be indented in a lot more, but unfortunately, Medium’s formatting does not support that.)