NEVER LOOK A GRIFT HORSE IN THE MOUTH

by Steven Kent

Nigel Farage has provided a new explanation for why he accepted a £5m gift from a Reform UK donor in the weeks before he announced he would stand in the last general election. In an interview on Thursday, Farage said the money was a “reward” for campaigning for Brexit. Previously, he had said the gift was given for security purposes, to keep him “safe and secure” for the rest of his life. —The Guardian, May 14, 2026

Concerning gifts,

The story shifts:

Security?

A Brexit fee?

Such camouflage

Befits Farage,

Who claimed, when caught,

I can't be bought.

With this much dosh,

His brag is bosh.

It's not a bribe?

Sure has that vibe!

Steven Kent is the poetic alter ego of writer and musician Kent Burnside. His work appears in 251, Asses of Parnassus, The Dirigible Balloon, Light, Lighten Up Online, The Lyric, New Verse News, The Orchards Poetry Journal, Philosophy Now, The Pierian, Pulsebeat Poetry Journal, The Road Not Taken: A Journal of Formal Poetry, Snakeskin, and Well Read. His collections I Tried (And Other Poems, Too) (2023) and Home at Last (2025) are published by Kelsay Books. 

BEATING UP THE POOR

by Dale Jacobson

Trump’s thugs come wearing masks 
like the KKK would hide their faces 
to not be known by the honest light of day.

To be surprised by American fascism 
is to forget to ask what the country has been 
for the poorest of the poor from the beginning, 
or how the worst of the worst made their law 
bright with fire, whips and murder.

You think reciting the Pledge of Allegiance in school 
ever meant justice for all? Or for the poor 
a just country ever existed? And the hatred 
and terror Trump now brings to the cities 
is a new law of a land that once was free?

Yes, they are paid to break families apart, 
they are colder than the deepest cold of 

Minnesota winter. The past also has its allegiances, 

cold-blooded and brutal.

And what do these thugs get from the mayhem 
they generously offer as their vision of America?  
What do they take home for their supper of dreams? 
Their bribe is what they take.  
What is the moldy crust they want the nation to eat? 
They don’t care. They never did.

Dale Jacobson is a poet from Minnesota. He has published ten books of poetry and appeared in a number of journals, including APR, Great River Review, and Another Chicago Magazine.