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poetic justice
is not reality
yet
we keep on writing
when in the world’s leading democracy
a new president starts his office with

     making life more expensive for average home owners
     signing orders threatening the health of millions
     restricting the publications of researchers
     denying global warming
     encouraging coal and oil companies
     forbidding federal employees to talk to the media
     going on fantasy trips about “alternative facts"
          to justify his ridiculous lies
     blaming the media when asking questions and checking facts
     barring leading media companies from press conferences
     waffling about his Russian connections
     refusing to release his tax returns
     ordering to build walls to keep out all those aliens,
          like the old Chinese did, to little avail
     issuing poorly formulated presidential orders
          causing confusion and harm and even deaths
     banning even green card holders from entering the country
     filling his cabinet with all the alligators from the swamps
          he promised to clean during his campaign
          people who know how to avoid paying taxes and beating the     system
          but have no clue how to govern now that they ARE the system
          and think they can run the USA with its 350 million citizens
          as Trump&Cronies;, USA, Inc.,
          like their private family businesses, for profit
courting kings and monarchs & wannabe sultans in the near east
     'democratic dictators' in the far southeast
      and wannabe czars in russia
but hesitating to confirm ties to old allies
     in Europe, NATO, and the Far East
suggesting that having undeclared secret meetings
     is quite OK with his campaign team members
     his son and son-in-law

[ctd. fron line 2...] it is high time to seriously ask
what concept
    if any
of democracy he has in mind
In view of ongoing developments, this poem is a work in progress and will be updated whenever significant "presidential orders" or some such become public.
I feel so uninspired

maybe because I’m tired
of all the nicely rhyming jingle
I’d rather wish that just a single
great thought or image would appear
of love or hate or lust or fear
unfold its plethora of riches

     no matter whether clowns or witches
     the sky  the stars the moon the sea
     and all the creatures there may be
     nature’s eternal universal charm
     the friendly dragon that means no harm
     fair maidens pining for their knights
     vampires haunting stormy nights
     fairies benign and leprechauns
     protecting all the loved ones

so that my lines be generally admired

alas, I still feel uninspired…
when no mornings
follow nights
cities lie without their lights
little beasts root happily
children can live all their fears
   forests break
   mountains shake
then it’s time again

rockets roar with deadly freight
sharp explosions rock the night
   soldiers shoot
   graveyards bloom
it is war

when scrawny skeletons
creep through the streets
parents weep
dead bodies radiate
   new death
and crumpled shapes
   spread more disease
then it’s time again

the general orders strategic attacks
and watches how the metropolis cracks
   rivers stink
   battleships sink
it is war

when the bakers bake no more bread
when the butchers chop off their hands
when the doctors’ only prescription is death
   corpses float in the village pond
   and supermarkets stay closed
24 hours a day
then it’s time again

maybe the ultimate time
for the warriors to storm from their heights
to the valleys to lance and destroy
   they also **** women
   all children are dead
   the moon is all red
   the stars are so wan

   we are counting the corpses
   as long as we can

it is war
This verse was originally written in January 2003, three months before G. W. Bush's invasion of Iraq. The military saber rattling and hyped governmental rhetoric of the last week trigger bad memories......
with all these Black Sheep
    from the bottom end
    of the top 1 percent
in the new government
spewing lies without shame
we will have to rename
the White House
Apropos recent developments
  Feb 2017 Walter W Hoelbling
Ramin Ara
Raise your words
Not your voice
It's the rain
That grows flowers
Not thunder
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