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Jonathan Handel Poem
He said I alone can solve it all:
The Mexicans will take the fall,
Rapists and murderers one and all.
I'll keep them out with a beautiful wall.
He claimed Muslims on the Jersey Shore
Cheered 9/11 with a roar.
So he proposed to even the score
By turning away refugees from our door.
He picked off his rivals one by one
With insults from his verbal gun.
A playground bully in his roots;
Now some of the vanquished lick his boots.
...
Think what he'd do if he brought into play
The FBI and NSA.
Like Nixon he’d create a mess
With the help of the IRS.
He could reshape the Pentagon
And stack the Court
As if in a game
Or perverted sport.
Treaties we rely on now
He might simply disavow;
And let the Russians have their way
If the Baltics didn’t pay.
...
He flirts with white power
And dictators abroad;
Talks of conspiracies,
Dark secrets and fraud.
Evidence is absent
And so is the truth;
Dissecting his meaning
Can require a sleuth.
“Believe me” he’ll say,
As facts slip away;
And then walk it back
With an “I don’t know” crack.
He mocks the disabled
And impugns a judge;
It’s as though someone cabled
“Keep sending us sludge!”
They said he would pivot,
But how could he change?
For this is a man
Of limited range.
...
To him experts are nothing,
Not even the generals.
He thinks himself wise,
But what kind of owl
Screeches all day
And puts on a scowl?
His hair in a rage,
He’s off on a rant.
His mind thinks thoughts
That most of ours can’t.
“I’m sending the nukes
And feel fresh as a daisy.”
To him this is smart;
To the rest of us, crazy.
A Muslim dad with a book
Is to him just a crook;
“Who wrote that speech?”
Asks the man whose own wife
Mouthed words from another’s life.
And a Gold Star mother
Contorted in grief
Is not even entitled
To simple belief;
POWs are losers –
The insults abound.
Why is someone so tawdry
Even around?
...
Love trumps hate;
Or so they say.
But darkness is deep
And people, clay.
Fear mixed with rage
Is a potent brew.
Hitler knew it;
Mussolini too.
...
Ties, wine and buildings
It’s all just a brand.
Like a bogus university
Built on nothing but sand.
He wants immigrants out,
Except for his wives.
For they alone
Know his true size.
It’s all a disaster,
He says, but wait!
Elect me now
And I’ll make it great.
This is a shortened version. Full poem available on the Huffington Post.
Copyright © Jonathan Handel | Year Posted 2016
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Details |
Jonathan Handel Poem
An ill wind blows
Straight across the land:
You can feel it now.
It’s a desert gale
That dessicates compassion;
A sandstorm
Scouring empathy from the heart.
It’s a parching blast,
A dry sirocco
That burns away kindness.
A wind that turns landscapes
Into arid civic ruin.
Copyright © Jonathan Handel | Year Posted 2016
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