Hard-Hitting Poetry

What must it be like
To stand there all day
Not even allowed
The freedom  to play?
*
The Children sicken.
The Children die--
While heartless Donald
Is still eating pie
*
America, bow your heads in shame
Ethnic cleansing is the name of the game--

     Clear out the black, the yellow, the brown
     Run gays and their kindred out of town
     Ridicule the halt, the blind, the lame
     And do unto those who sorrow the same
     Jail the actors, the artists, the press
     Silence the women and make them a jest
     Reject the migrants or throw them in jail
     Allow graft and cronyism to prevail

In short, go after anyone who
Doesn't talk or think or look like you--
An automaton of self-fed hate
Which no force on earth can eradicate



In short, go after anyone who
Doesn't look or think or talk like you
Until there's no one left but you