Breaking the cell phone with my fist
I ask, Where was everybody?
When it came time to vote on
Maple Street, they weren’t aliens.
The invaders didn’t come in space ships;
no, they used Fox News and the internet. 
Look in your rear view mirror, did that
hitchhiker don a red cap with white letters? 
Behind the podium at press conferences,
why do they all wear ugly masks?
And poor Melania, turned into
a robot blowing her fuse.
In the eye of this beholder,
I want to join a village of outcasts.
If he could write a book, the title
would be…To Serve Poor.
Because all he can do is reminisce about how
much he loved the whites-only three scoop past.
Will my glasses fall off from the shock
wave of a tweet-induced third world war?
He is wearing a horrible wig and
makeup, but that’s no gremlin, it’s…
You’re a bad president, a very
bad president…to the cornfield!
And don’t forget the puppeteer:
there’s room for one more, honey….
Don Kingfisher Campbell, MFA from Antioch University Los Angeles, has taught at Occidental College for 34 years, been a coach and judge for Poetry Out Loud, a performing poet/teacher for Red Hen Press Youth Writing Workshops, L.A. Coordinator and Board Member of CPITS, poetry editor of the Angel City Review, publisher of Spectrum magazine, and host of the Saturday Afternoon Poetry reading series in Pasadena, California.
Back to Top