The Age of Nefarious
written by: Alison Vail Fuller
@alisonVfuller
helpmeIcannotbreathe
political
strife
haunts me and
compresses
my
windpipe
our country
spinning back
on itself
images of
wild kingdom beauty
killed
with unfair
advantage
blood dripping
from a tiger’s mouth
its limp body draped
over a proud human
our first family
celebrating
with snide smiles
holding their weapons
well-polished rifles
baby bears
hibernating
targets of
fair game
in the game
of our president
smog is
okay
yes, befoul
our famous
cityscapes
esteemed scientists
know nothing
moving back
to a time
when we
struggled
for a breath
of worthy air
and our water was ill suited
for drinking—
too polluted
will we also return
to illegal
abortions?
bloody hangers
tearing at flesh
we women ponder
we fight a good fight
we live in shock
disastrous decisions
formed by empty brains
vomited daily as executive orders
what next? what slaying?
what gets axed today? (are they saying?)
red blood
smeared by an orange leader
not popularly chosen
victorious by way of
Moscow plots
and
Comey shots
smiling rich men
helming every department
proud of
their sport in all their comportment
as they strip empathy
from my country tis of thee
and strike at those people with their bigotry
deny climate change with defiance
blow up every treasured alliance
target innocents with their darts
or strangle
the humanities and the arts
I used to
have a great sense of pride
in our nation
and our optimistic trajectory
now there’s no place to hide
we’re a deformation
of the revered land of the free
from sea to shining sea
we decline as a democracy
money rules
legislators are tools
corporations are people, my friend
no low is too low for us to descend
I thought we—
our country—
could role model
our world
with
wisdom
equality and
tolerance
unfurled
humanity feels
obsolete today
once a haven
now a hell
walls of intolerance
halls of hate
stifling the best of us
The Age of Nefarious
the worst of
humankind
proudly displayed
democracy now a big charade
patriotism hailed as America First
no— it’s the U.S. at its worst
NOTE FROM THE AUTHOR:
Art by Russel Foltz-Smith
The blank page beckons. It can provide the key to truth, to inspiration, to enlightenment, and to justice. At a time when fundamental democratic institutions are under assault, arts and letters can give testimony to the unprivileged, the underserved, and the forgotten.
I write because it is life sustaining, and I hope that my words reflect, even in a small way, the indomitability of the human spirit.
A Connecticut girl transplanted to New York City’s East Village, I later found my way to Venice, California. I was quickly won over by its tableau of diversity, art, and the breathtaking views that always promise better days—for our daughters, our sons, and all mankind.
- In Heat - November 19, 2019
- Stolen Holiday - November 3, 2018
- An Angel’s Whisper - October 5, 2017
