Trumped-On

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

Trump Card

is

a brick house built

of unshakable stuff

beliefs in a better World.

And while

the trumpeters

trumpet their trash, I’ll scratch

my disquiet and my disgust

pen-tattooing

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.