"Ours is the land of freedom" anti-Trump poem

Conspiracy, lie and hate

These no longer rule our fate

You will not fool us twice

Ours is the land of freedom

Yours is the dream of vice

What are you even fighting for?

We dont want your hate anymore

You are another skilled liar

Putting our land on fire

How many more indicements

Is liar Trump going to cause

Before we stop taking guess

and end this entire bad mess

He tried to confuse and cheat

Hoping we were just dumb sheep

His tactics are not new beat

He is not someone to keep

Yesterday I said the thing

I was trying to say

perfectly to myself. I am something

astounding, I am like the Grand

Canyon, I said, by which I meant

I sometimes feel hedged in

by those who would sweat in hot cars for days

just to stand and look at me. And people think

I am saying I am a spectacle, a wonder

surrounded by nothing

as huge as me, and people think I am

claiming majesty. People travel for days

to look at the most important canyon, which is to say

the biggest empty space. Sometimes

I might as well kick pea gravel over the side

rather than try to explain who I am

and wait until I hear it hit the ground.

What I am trying to say

in small, hard words that always fall away

from what I mean,

is I am not the canyon, the immense

perfection of its depth, I am more

the missing earth dispersed,

trying to feel whole, to believe

that God makes sometimes

by taking away.

Trumpet cultist { 60 million } drink from Golden cup of poppycock.  Issac Newtons end-date-for-humanity 2065 { amongest other of his end-dates }