Hands splayed over hearts
Allegiances thus promised
In solemn salute
This most sovereign state
Land of the free they once said
But whose are we now?
Where do we protest
When the amendments all fall?
When the brave cower?
Tag: trump
The Sewing Circle
The Sewing Circle
by Leslie Noyes
Friends of a feather
Gathered closely together
Nimble fingers poised
A work in progress
Stitches in red, white, and blue
Most, perfectly spaced
“Janis, there’s a hitch
In the shape of your last stitch.”
“No, that clump is trump.”
Public School Teachers, Revolt!
A Tragedy in One Ridiculously Short Act
Characters:
Rob Moore: husband/father
Shelley Moore: wife/mother
Randy and Jill Moore: Offspring of the above
Gate Attendant
Mr. O’Rourke, supervisor
Setting: Dublin airport. Chicago departure gate, summer 2018.
Scene: The Moore family hurries through the Dublin airport to catch a flight home after two weeks vacationing in Ireland. They’re an ordinary middle class family exhausted after the adventure of a lifetime.
Rob (yawns): C’mon everyone. Here are your passports. Randy, got your stuffed leprechaun?
Randy: Yup! Hey can we rent a movie?
Rob (rumpling his son’s hair): We’ll see. I’m betting you sleep the whole way!
Shelley: Honey, check the kids in. I need to grab some ibuprofen before we board. I’ll be right behind you.
Rob: Make it quick, hon. Jill, stop sulking, put your phone in your bag and get in line.
Jill (dragging her feet): I don’t want to go!
Rob (smiling indulgently): That’s what you said when we left Chicago.
The family, minus Shelley, boards the plane. Shelley finds the closest kiosk and purchases a mild pain reliever. She returns to the boarding line.
Gate Attendant: Passport and boarding pass, please.
Shelley (smiling): Here you go.
Gate Attendant (frown): Mrs. Moore, can I get you to step aside?
Shelley: Um, sure, but my family is already on the plane….
Gate Attendant (motions to a supervisor): Mr. O’Rourke, could you check Mrs. Moore’s identification?
Mr. O’Rourke (smiling): Certainly. Come with me, please, Mrs. Moore.
Shelley: But….
Mr. O’Rourke: Just a matter of clarification. Let me look up your information. (Punches information into computer)
Mr. O’Rourke: Oh.
Shelley: Oh, what?
Mr. O’Rourke: You’ve been flagged as a possible terrorist.
Shelley (looks down at her mom jeans and Coexist tshirt.): Honestly? Do I LOOK like a terrorist?
Mr. O’Rourke: Well, to be honest Mrs. Moore you look perfectly reputable to me, but have you by any chance registered as a Muslim in the past year or so.
Shelley: I did. I’m a Christian, but I wanted to stand up to Trump and his crazy Islamaphobia.
Mr. O’Rourke: Ah. I see. Could you step behind the screen here for just a minute?
Shelley (following request): Sure, but…Wait!
Muffled Bang
Mr. O’Rourke (Coming out from behind the screen): Shame about all those Americans.
Gate Attendant: Indeed. But the Trump Foundation is paying such a good bounty on each head.
On board the plane the remainder of the Moore family has gotten settled into their seats and immediately fallen asleep for the long flight to Chicago.
THE END
Old White Cars
My subconscious has been working overtime during many mangled hours of sleep. Since Trump secured the electoral college numbers to make him president-elect, I’ve awakened from uneasy dreams multiple times in the middle of every night with a horrible taste in my mouth and a lead ball feeling in the pit of my stomach. I’m pretty sure that along with the nightmares I’ve developed an ulcer. Note to self: Buy stock in Rolaids.
A couple of nights ago I had a dream that keeps nagging at the corners of my mind. I know it’s political, and not even very subtle. Tell me what you think:
I’ve gone into a shopping mall leaving my beautiful blue car in a parking spot at quite a distance from the building, the better to get my 10,000 steps in for the day. After walking around the mall and trying on clothes in various boutiques, I return to the parking lot only to find my car has been taken. I’m devastated. The car was my favorite.
I flag down a security guard on his little golf cart and we make several loops around the enormous parking lot with no success. Finally we call 911. When the police officers, Bill and Jill arrive I give them a detailed description of my car:
Medium blue, 2008 model, Chevy Allegiance.
“Ma’am,” Officer Bill says, “We’ll get right on that.”
“Can we give you a ride home?” asks Officer Jill.
As I’m getting into the officers’ patrol car, two older white men suddenly appear beside me.
“We found your car!” exclaims Man #1.
“It’s right here!” enthuses Man #2.
And sure enough, there’s a huge car covered by a white cloth just a few parking spots away. I follow the two men who are so excited about showing me my car. With a flourish, they pull the covering away to reveal a beautiful antique car. It’s a gleaming white Duesenberg.
“Isn’t it beautiful?” crowed Man #1. “It’s the 1933 model.”
“Yes, it’s lovely, but it isn’t my car.”
“It is now,” intoned Man #2. “Enjoy the ride.”
That’s when I awakened. Isn’t it amazing what one’s mind can do? A Chevy Allegiance? No such thing. A ’33 Duesenberg? 1933 was the year Hitler became chancellor of Germany. Coincidence?
As Trump assembles his team of alt-right racists and hard core hawks, this dream has become even more nightmarish. I just want my blue car.
Peace, people.
The More I Hear, The More I Fear
What Irony
A round of applause for Mick Z’azworsky who created this meme.
Privilege
Of course his racism affects, or will affect, all of us in some way. Only time will tell how deeply.
Stand up, speak up, don’t let the bullies win.
Who Did You Become?
On 11/9/2016
Who did you become?
A boaster, bragger
instant tagger
c’mon can’t we get
along?
Or a nervous wreck
jumping at shadows
bad dreams of
four long
years to come?
a silenced nightmare
holding back
salty tears of
frustrated
rage,
or an anointer,
bring it on,
free the monster
from his
cage.
The Monster in the Room
In case this is too subtle for you, it’s Trump.
Praying for Eyebrowz 