The nightmare consumes me
Bringing forth fear and pain
Colors glistening off ur face
White and red mark you
As an outcast in my life
In the midst of darkness

Taking advantage of my sleep
Feeding into my fears of
These painted beings
The grin brings me to tears
Cowering under your big red feet
You're the Set-Up
And I'm the Punchline

The following poem is a generalization, on that, we can likely agree,
but this is the way that most Trumpists appear, to many a person like me:*


Dear Trumpists, I am here to say I think I understand
just what you're really all about across the troubled land.
It really bugs you, does it not, when walking in your town,
to see so many people with a skin of black or brown?

To hear a foreign language when the immigrants converse.
To see them in a headscarf or a turban makes you curse.
Their differences, their ways of life, you see as disrespect
and you hate being asked to be "politically correct".

Then one day came a savior shining brighter than the sun.
His name was Donald Trump and you knew he was the one.
You knew you must support him 'cause in every speech he'd give,
he'd validate your hate and he'd fit with your narrative.

"The Mexicans are rapists", "The Muslims seek to ****",
"Black lives don't matter quite so much". Such thoughts gave you a thrill.
Sometimes he was outrageous. You could not trust every word,
but vote for him you did because you felt you had been heard.

Well, now your man's in power and it's no longer fun,
with half his staff revolting (and that's in more ways than one).
He hasn't drained the swamp, it's just become further bogged down,
with all his slimy yes-men there to praise the orange clown.

He comes across as ignorant and looking like a fool.
He's subject to fact-checking and resulting ridicule.
The press, it has a field day and comedians rejoice.
His opponents have united and have found a common voice.

Dear Trumpists, I do understand that this has made you mad,
but sense and reason don't support the notions that you've had.
So you rant on social media with foul, insulting fits,
like a bunch of whining, shouting, howling, idiotic twits.

So Trumpists, don't you realize, your chance has passed you see?
Oppression has been in decline since the end of slavery.
So here's a new idea that I'd really like to share:
You might try something different by showing that you care.

Why don't you go extend a hand to those that you attack.
They might provide you insight that you desperately lack.
Just open up your heart and head and throw away the hate,
and America once more could be a nation that is great.

Trees we hike dark coal
"Horror"
He whispers blade eyes
Cut her not to like
White drizzle wedding
ghostly take a hike
Her bare skin shivers
Knocking on heavens door
Those skinheads hit her floor
Life's cruel wicked costly
Silver bullets hit the smoking
potheads
Chattered teeth hearing sound's
He shifted so close desirable
( tasty mound's)

The Stranger  Billy don't B fool
joker
  Dark-love complicated **** it
Computer slammed her fingers
All Choked up Elvis twist

Deep-house music strangled rope 
 seated,
Touching a nerve dead-beat
Harvest-hair Rocky horror seat
Trembling in your
 Rocking Chair
No flair black tears red tip check
of word fears
Elevated you deadly crumb's
in a row nothing to show

Blood was dripping
Someone's eyes pop-out fixated
Dark brain felt polluted
white chalked her stalked
You were being watched
Eye's stalked daggered

Rows and Rows
Cosmic dark Gothically
Webs caught in webs
black tears
satanically
Parasite horror website
Bood ***** bite
Loud drips from the sink
discolored
Wrinkled Hand's Slime Sticky
Her long neck lastly tricky

Rocky-Road yellow brick
lightly pricked Emerald city
Eye's melt fingers slipped
The poppy, eyes I tripped
He's no lover of mine cheaply.

In my entourage
people laugh
I got used to it.

In my center stage
I was the comedian
who never likes
his job.

In my closing remarks
their entertainment
was fulfilled.
I on the other hand
got drained
from my mistakes
turned to be pretty
funny,
never was that
my intention.