Poem: Floaters

 

Floaters

 

mouthy menageries,

they complain about the sun.

it’s not all that brilliant, after all,

only an intellectual sink

which sucks cool shadows away.

 

the sun, they mouth,

from their many puffed pulpits,

is a disciple of that chairman in 1984

who said,

 

we shall meet again in that place

where there is no darkness.

 

these dull clouds,

they hover herded,

clumps of neutered dreams;

cocoons woven

by catepillars of grey.

 

they follow quick

the merest hint of wind,

obedient and derelict,

digested and complacent

as feces.

 

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Many people are born into the savagery of dictatorships.  It’s not their fault.  But the people of American, they are allowing their democracy to be transmogrified into totalitarian state, complete with masked squads of enforcers who make people disappear.  It is far and away the most pathetic and loathsome failure of morality to watch, firsthand, this annhilation of any elements of justice, fairness and equality.  This full victory of fear and  hate, under a narcissistic, tyrannical fist of might-makes-right.

Just one effect of this:  global warming will not be addressed, because the USA refuses to admit it's a problem.  Why?  The dictator Trump demands that it is not a problem, and demands that people agree with him to pass a loyalty test.  Trump is now keeping coal plants open that even the operates don't want to keep open anymore.  Why?  To mock the truth, science and anything they can do to challenge his power.

https://www.nytimes.com/2025/06/06/climate/trump-coal-gas-plants-energy-emergency.html

I write the above thinking that I might well be disappeared myself, within a few years.  Why don't I leave, you ask? 

I'm 61 years old, have lived in a beautiful, peaceful natural spot for 25 years, don't have the financial resources and, given my introversion and lack of know-how, am bewildered about how I would even begin to, say, get into Canada.  I'd need a job offer, I believe, at the professional level, and that is not going to come easy for me.  Part of me, too, wants to remain here and fight to the bitter end.  I should start saving my poems on my blog into a separate thumb drive.  But I haven't yet... maybe part of me is still in denial, or has hope that Trump can be stopped. Maybe part of me fancies myself a a prophet, who is called by the forces of Goodness to do certain things.. and no more.

People tell me I'm overreacting.  I don't know.  I don't think so.

We all sit and watch the masked police arresting immigrants and disappearing them.  "First they came for ... "  ".. and then they came for me."