SURELY NO REVELATION IS AT HAND

by David L Williams

While sitting on the back step all looked fine,

but that rope ladder dangling down the trunk

reminded me how freedom’s in decline,

assaulted by minorities of bunk.

Angered, along these lines, as I sat out,

I shook my head and struggled to make sense

of turncoat madness, but my turn to shout,

madly across the lawn and through the fence

fell short of any Capitol to breach,

and any insurrection I might mount

would hardly climb a ladder with the reach

to trip up emissaries of false doubt.

The challenge, tangled in their ropes of lies:

Unseat them calmly, before freedom dies.

David L Williams is recently retired from 34 years teaching high school English in Lincoln, Nebraska, his primary residence since he went to college there in the 80s. His poetry has mostly been written since May of 2021, and he has only recently started trying to publish. For inspiration, he enjoys sitting on the two steps leading to their patio and looking out back.

HEARTACHE FROM THE NUMBERS

by Ken Gosse

Cartoon by Pat Byrnes at Cagle.

They laudit, applaudit,

and so many boughtit—

the Big Lie the former guy nurtured—

they taughtit.

Eschewing all facts,

praising mutinous acts,

so many fools caughtit

and none of them foughtit,

the great pumpkin’s pie in the sky—

AZ Fraudit.

Ken Gosse generally writes light, rhyming verse. First published in First Literary Review-East in 2016, since then by Pure Slush, Spillwords, The Ekphrastic Review, and others. Raised in the Chicago suburbs, now retired, he and his wife have lived in Mesa, AZ, over twenty years with rescue dogs and cats underfoot.

I AM THE VERY MODEL OF A QANON CONSPIRACY

by Ellen Hawley McWhirter

I am the very model of a QAnon conspiracy

Born and bred to foster fear and rampant insecurity

And through the years, you must admit

I’ve gotten rather good at it:

I am the very model of a QAnon conspiracy.

 

I weaponize the people who feel left behind, and I compel 

their loud attacks on science and on medicine and truth itself.

The stranger that my theories get,

The more that they are shared and spread

‘cause QAnon conspiracies, like COVID, are quite hard to quell.

 

The Democrats are stealing children underneath your very nose

Selling them and eating them and hardly anybody knows.

You must refuse to vaccinate;

Just drink some bleach and you’ll be great,

And watch out for the Deep dark State our hero Trump tried to expose

The national election it was stolen, it was clearly fraud:

Put Democrats and disagreers all before a firing squad!

The Bible and the Constitution

Call for bloody resolution

Get your guns and bombs, and know that Jesus surely would applaud.

 

The wearing of a mask is an affront to true civility

The bearing of a weapon anywhere is basic liberty

Mass shootings are a lie perverse,

And climate change is even worse

You must defend these truths with Christian hatred and hostility.

 

The only threat that worries me is thinking that is critical,

That shows my puppeteering, and is clear and analytical,

Exposes my hypocrisy,

and questions what’s in it for me,

and highlights common ground across our differences political.

 

Now if you think I’m bragging, it’s just not that hard to play this game

When people are unhappy and are seeking someone else to blame

A rumor and some blatant lies,            

And 1-2-3 you’re polarized,

And Jewish lasers shot from space fan all the sparks right into flame.

 

I am the very model of a QAnon conspiracy

Fed by anger, ignorance, and hunger for identity

I’m anti-logic, anti-truth,

I’m anti-them and all for you:

I am the very model of a QAnon conspiracy.

Ellen Hawley McWhirter is a professor of counseling psychology and writes poetry to preserve her sanity.

JANUARY SIXTH

by Diane Vogel Ferri

The Jan. 6 rally of Trump supporters before the assault on the Capitol.Credit: Nina Berman/NOOR/Redux via The New York Times.

Let us not forget 

how we heard the crack of the breach

in every state, the unholy war

with bloated flags waving

dishonorably, whipping

in the felonious wind

Let us not forget

the terrorism of groupthink

the righteous pounding and shattering

the victims in their glory

holding blue-line banners

while violating blue lives

Let us not forget 

what we saw in real-time

the slurs we heard

the trashing of Jesus

of our tax dollars

our house a crime scene

Let us not forget

the present disremembering

of the big lie

how it is in the past now

consequences suffered only

by the dead

Diane Vogel Ferri is a teacher, poet, and writer living in Solon, Ohio. Her essays have been published in Scene Magazine, Cleveland Stories, Yellow Arrow Journal, and Good Works Review among others. Her poems can be found in numerous journals such as Plainsongs, Rubbertop Review, and Poet Lore. Her previous publications are Liquid Rubies (poetry), The Volume of Our Incongruity (poetry), The Desire Path (novel) and her newest novel No Life But This: A Novel of Emily Warren Roebling.