Each added Trump day in the White House is a stellar disgrace,

Soiling our pages of history with tinny words & scaly presence.

It’s a mockery of what we are and what we mean as a nation.

We’ve had sullied moments like this in an uneven history,

But Trump’s damage is so severe, so heartbreaking & so ruining,

That it hurts to the core to see him there with dirty little hands.

While we choke on impotence & wail disgust, mostly unheard

By a tribe of privileged white men with no ears, no masks & no heart,

They serve in bold shame & open indolence, tending to insular needs.

They hear no suffering of masses of men, women & children,

There’s dying too: virus, hunger, disease, unseen by their privilege,

Glad to only watch dying in comfort from a safe distance.

An America disgraced and now pitied on other shores,

Glad to let us have our supremacy in private words not deeds.

Our skin colors do mingle in protest, beaten, gassed & cursed by secret thugs,

A type storied in violent history, this in a once proud, once vital and fabled land.

Thugs now dispel protest with near-toxic gases, beating & kidnapping.

Meanwhile white privileged men sit in a pompous panoply of skullduggery,

Do nothing but count their stocks, wealth, and privilege.

Through clenched teeth wheezing white words of condemnation,

Are meaningless decibels of lies, deceit, dogma, and self-degradation.

Union tottering under weight of Trump treason & GOP acceptance,

Republican jobs taking precedence over 244 years of a free Republic.