hypocrite

i’m tired;
every day when i awake
from my joyless slumber,
nights filled w/terror and
nightmares, i get a snapshot
of the recent events,
and i go increasingly numb
when i read each word;

i’m tired;
all the anger and hate and fear;
all the nasty comments;
neighbor against neighbor
against every one;

i go out to the far back of my property,
dig a hole, put my head in the hole,
bury my head in the sand; so to speak;
but i don’t like the taste of dirt; the taste
of defeat; the taste of giving up;

i’m tired…

i vow to do better, try harder, speak to
the unspoken; say hello to the neighbor
with the barking dogs; say hello to
the neighbor with the Trump 2016 still
stuck in dead grass; say hello to the
neighbor that calls me faggot every
chance he gets;

it’s tough to turn the other cheek when
the barking dogs of congress are all cowards;
when the White House is filled with
sycophants and ass lickers; and states
where LDBTQ can get fired just because
of orientation;

yeah i’ll get right on that “turn the other cheek”
as soon as the shot gun is loaded
and the dead bolt is turned.

Jack Henry is a poet based in the high desert of Southern California. He has recently emerged from a 10-year self-imposed exile from writing. Recent publications can be found in Raven’s Cage, Horror Sleaze Trash, Red Fez, Rusty Truck, Dope Fiend Daily, Smoking Typewriter, Misfits, and, forthcoming, Fearless. He also publishes Heroin Love Songs, a journal of poetic chaos. Read other articles by Jack.