There is a new phenomenon in our house – the Daily Trump.
It starts with receiving the latest mad political news, at home or abroad, and pretty much ends that way too… a Daily Trump and a coffee to wash it down cos it always gets stuck in my throat.
My nearest and dearest think that I am a protest poet, and it’s true that I write protest poetry – breast ironing, enforced wearing of the veil, injustices old and new – but I find that’s the best way to counter those things that I personally cannot change.
Luckily, I tend to see beauty in the most peculiar places – a mermaid swimming into a mackerel sky, or other escapist fantasies but really…. this is surely a time of not learning from history and forgetting our humanity.
So, for all the Trumped-Up stuff
Trumpeted about by the huf-
fing-and-puffing types, my
a brick house built
of unshakable stuff
beliefs in a better World.
trumpet their trash, I’ll scratch
my disquiet and my disgust
white paper with black ink
black paper with white ink
and shut out their Trumpeted stink
till I can think above their din...
and the world’s enlightened again.