I AM NOT – I AM

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I am not too old for this shit.
If Donald Trump can fuck
the whole world at 73,
I can call it out as rape at 56.
I am not a Republican
because I will never be OK
with grinding the poor into gold dust
to line the pockets of billionaires
(I see you smiling, #MoscowMitch).
I am not a Democrat
because I can’t pretend to care
while luring the same desperate people
into the traps of competing billionaires
(Bill Gates and Jeff Bezos walk
into the Clinton Foundation bar…).
I am not apolitical, either,
just because I’m unwilling
to accept “R” or “D” as my only
viable options. (This Poem is a word-bomb
ticking beneath the thrones of both parties).
I am not a hater
because hate is bared teeth with no mouth.
I am not a hater
because I know that’s what the billionaires
would choose for me,
and I refuse them the satisfaction.
I am not a hater
because hate makes me a weapon in their hands.
I am not a hater
because I know when it’s all said and done
there’s going to be a world to rebuild,
and only love builds. Hate destroys.
I am not hopeless
because I know Hope will outlive the bastards.
I’ll snuggle warm in Hope’s bed
till that morning when we spring awake laughing.

I am
madly in love with my wife.
You would be, too, if you knew her.

I am
a bit surprised you’ve read this far, but thank you!
I am
a white guy who knows people of color
have always been their own saviors
and it’s me they’re saving from.
I am
a father ashamed and angry
at just how much of this fight
I’ll be leaving to my children (sorry, kids).
I am
a believer in magic(k) and miracles
which I am teaching my children
to brandish as shield and dagger.
I am
a Baby Boomer in love
with the Millennials I believe
will kick all our asses, and we deserve it
(Go Millennials!).
I am
ready to fire poems
of love like rockets
over Trump’s bigly wall.
I am
ready for Great America
to rout the evil in her midst.
Blaze the torches! Pitchforks high!
I am
ready to throw the tea overboard
and the American Oligarchy with it
(drink the rich).
I am
drunk on words like tongues
of fire leaping up from my pen.
For poetry is a god politicians
can’t see coming, but who surely sees them. 



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