Today the weight of public cruelty felt physically overwhelming. A single post sparked this poem; the anger behind it has been years in the making.
nauseated by the vitriol
spewed by the man
who would be king.
There is no bottom
to how low he will go.
Nothing shakes his fanatics
from their trances.
Mass shootings, murders -
violence the natural consequence
of language that denigrates,
that licenses hate.
Words do matter.
Truth once mattered.
Now nothing is truth unless
it feeds the greedy,
fuels the outraged,
propels the powerful.
There are no words,
none that make sense,
to rationalize the misery
dragging us downward.
The fog grows thicker
as we descend into darkness,
manufactured by blame.
All fingers point to the “other”;
the elite anoint themselves chosen.
No words are enough
to wake them -
those who traded ethics
for proximity to power.
This is what they voted for,
what electrifies them,
what swells their self-righteousness
and feeds their small, hungry egos.
Perhaps this is who
they have always been.
This is who they chose to be.
Still,
I feel sick today,
sick of them all.
Poetry by Melinda K Zarate
Written on 2025-12-15 at 23:55
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Into the Darkness
I feel sick today,nauseated by the vitriol
spewed by the man
who would be king.
There is no bottom
to how low he will go.
Nothing shakes his fanatics
from their trances.
Mass shootings, murders -
violence the natural consequence
of language that denigrates,
that licenses hate.
Words do matter.
Truth once mattered.
Now nothing is truth unless
it feeds the greedy,
fuels the outraged,
propels the powerful.
There are no words,
none that make sense,
to rationalize the misery
dragging us downward.
The fog grows thicker
as we descend into darkness,
manufactured by blame.
All fingers point to the “other”;
the elite anoint themselves chosen.
No words are enough
to wake them -
those who traded ethics
for proximity to power.
This is what they voted for,
what electrifies them,
what swells their self-righteousness
and feeds their small, hungry egos.
Perhaps this is who
they have always been.
This is who they chose to be.
Still,
I feel sick today,
sick of them all.
Poetry by Melinda K Zarate
Written on 2025-12-15 at 23:55
Save as a bookmark (requires login) Write a comment (requires login) Send as email (requires login) Print text
