Like that
mourning do
After a cold night
Looking over
That nasty bluff
When the populace says jump
As if
Only culpable
Sane
How high
Falling for everything
Accept gravity and physics
As mirror opinion
Reproving such an eminent nadir
As democracy takes a dive
For the biggest dip ever
And with celebrated ruins
Hour only hope
As tour US industry
For what's left
Of the wrest of the world
This poem is dedicated to that huge, really huge part of america that is looming amidst shock and fear of a donald trump regime. 
I am definitely not a fan of things having to get worse before they get better. 
I intentionally rejected that notion wholesale years ago. While we can learn stuff by getting hit in the face by a 2×4, this is a bankrupt rationale for hitting people in the face with a 2X4. In a Trump dystopia, the biggest dream I can muster is that his capricious governing will cause American empire to falter in its hegemonic domination of the rest of the world. [editor's note: I had to add “dystopia” to my blog's dictionary] Trump's america first credo is, of course, perfectly aligned with traditional and endemic American exceptionalism. 
My hope rests somewhere in the neighborhood of one's greatest strength becoming one's greatest weakness. While many aspects of a Trump regime are uncertain, there is little doubt that hubris will not be in short supply. May progressive and humane forces take advantage of whatever cracks may appear in the predominance of well-disciplined empire. May we forge a future beyond the false choices of neoliberalism and fascism, a future of solidarity and equity between all peoples and justice for the planet in which our life ultimately depends.
Feel free to browse anti-imperialism and anti-empire designs.
