Sunday, July 26, 2020

I Don't Want to Have to Pick Up a Gun | Protest Poem Against Trump's Fascist Takeover of the United States



I don't want to have to pick up a gun,
point it at someone,
and pull the trigger.
But it may come down to that.

I don't want to have to pick up a gun,
but the monsters are winning, and winning big.
The white supremacists,
the trolls,
the propagandists,
the corporations.
The Zuckerbergs.
The Bezoses.
The Bloombergs.
The McConnells.
The Kobachs.
The Gym Jordans.
The Lindsay Grahams.
The Brett Kavanaughs.

Wall Street.
ExxonMobile.
Big Pharma.
Big Media.
Big Oil.
Big Death.

I don't want to have to pick up a gun,
but Facebook is destroying democracies around the world,
Google too,
and Amazon is gleefully wiping out local economies and environments
and workers' rights around the world.

I don't want to have to pick up a gun,
but Trump wants to shred the Constitution,
and his brainless followers want a Republican dictatorship,
and want to continue tearing innocent children from innocent parents' arms.
They love concentration camps.
Makes them nostalgic.

I don't want to have to pick up a gun,
but Christian evangelists are attempting to establish
a theocracy,
and desire not the Jesus of the gospels,
but a power-hungry mutant Christ of their fevered suburban imaginations,
a Prosperity Gospel freak of nature.

I don't want to have to pick up a gun,
but the suburbans couldn't care less that they're destroying
the planet;
they keep consuming and consuming and spreading themselves
like the cancerous viruses they are.
Let's go shopping!

I don't want to have to pick up a gun,
but those in power continue spouting empty words
about standing up to climate change,
while holding out their hands behind their backs
so that pig corporate lobbyists can hand them cash to keep them
happy, rich, and compliant.

I don't want to have to pick up a gun,
but the world is falling, day by day,
under the shadow of fascism and ignorance,
under the carbon-rich stenches of racism and nationalism,
under the glistening surface of the cesspool
of the Great Unthinking Herd.

I don't want to have to pick up a gun,
point it at someone,
and pull the trigger.
But it is looking more and more inevitable
that I will,
sooner than later,
have to.


~~*~~