Category: The Wall

House of Shame

11/27/2020

My wife were in Washington, DC, today. We drove into town to see Black Lives Matter Plaza. Since we don't live in DC and/or follow the city's politics, we have no idea how effective the mayor is at running the city; however, both of use thought that her decision to paint BLACK LIVES MATTER outside the White House was brilliant.

Yes, the action was inconsequential as far as the real work that must be down to dismantle systemic racism. However, the move was powerfully symbolic in the face of a White Supremacist who has served illegitimately for four years in the highest office in our country.

Above left, center and right: Black Lives Matter Plaza

Right: St. John's Episcopal Church

We also saw St. John's Episcopal Church, the place of worship where Donald Trump, a profoundly immoral and godless man, had held a Bible upside down after he had his secret police force gas peaceful protesters.

Below: BLM signs posted on one of the barricades Trump has had erected around the White House.

The most disturbing thing we saw were the rows of fences and barricades Trump has had erected around the White House. It is shameful and truly disgusting. It is a national disgrace.

I grew up just outside of Washington, and when I was a teenager, I used to drive into town and park at the Ellipse -- and there would be the White House. It was an inspiring sight to behold. Now, Trump has it surrounded by wire fences and multiple barricades. The People's House now resembles a war zone prison compound.

So Trump now has his wall -- except that it's not at our southern border. Instead, it surrounds the White House. And Mexico didn't pay for it. American taxpayer dollars did. Trump has turned the people's House into a House of Shame. It was truly a sickening sight to see.

Trump's wall called to mind Emmett Lee Dickinson's poem, "We see thee clearer for the Fence," below on the left. Dickinson's poem inspired third cousin Emily to pen her poem "I see thee clearer for the Grave," below on the right.

By Emmett Lee Dickinson:

We see thee clearer for the Fence
That took its place around
No Mirror could illumine thee
Like that now a Pound –

We know thee better for the Act
That made thee feel immune
The structure ‘round our People’s House
Attests the Bird’s a loon.

By Emily Dickinson:

I see thee clearer for the Grave
That took thy face between
No Mirror could illumine thee
Like that impassive stone --

I know thee better for the Act
That made thee first unknown
The stature of the empty nest
Attests the Bird that's gone.

Metaphors Be With You -- Part 2

8/1/2020

Bart Simpson once said, “I never thought this was humanly possible, but this both sucks and blows.” Similarly – and I really didn’t think this would be humanly possible – but the Trump presidency has been both totally and utterly sad, and at the same time it has been completely and absolutely laughable.

This paradoxical phenomenon began when Trump descended a golden escalator in Trump Tower – a visual metaphor for our descent into hell – and he dropped racist dog whistles and began barking into a racist bull horn about a tremendous wall (with a beautiful door) to be constructed across the southern border of the United States (which, of course, Mexico would pay for).

Did you see the videos last week when high winds blew down portions of Master Builder Trump’s border fence? It was completely and absolutely laughable – a striking visual metaphor of our so-called president’s tenure in the White House.

Trump’s pathetic ha-ha (which, honestly, literally means “sunken fence”) inspired us to post Emmett Lee Dickinson’s poem “So ‘large’ his Wall” below on the left. Dickinson’s poem inspired third cousin Emily to pen her poem “So large my Will,” below on the right.

By Emmett Lee Dickinson:

So “large” his Wall
So brittle that it may
Embarrass him
With heavy infamy –

A stunt for him
For whom the Whole is “great”
Affront to me
Who know his Deed of hate.

Worth at its best
Is but a scanty Toy –
Brought quickly down
In stark hilarity.

It’s now so small
We chiefly wonder then
At his Conceit
In purchasing.

By Emily Dickinson:

So large my Will
The little that I may
Embarrasses
Like gentle infamy –

Affront to Him
For whom the Whole were small
Affront to me
Who know His Meed of all.

Earth at the best
Is but a scanty Toy –
Bought, carried Home
To Immortality.

It looks so small
We chiefly wonder then
At our Conceit
In purchasing.

And speaking of visual metaphors for Trump's disastrous administration, click HERE to see five or our favorites Let us know which on you like best!

Living Like A King

2/16/2019

From our political correspondent Dorothy Dawe:

In a gross abuse of power -- permitted by a GOP that continues to allow our country to slide toward authoritarian rule unchecked -- Donald "L'Etat, c'est moi" Trump declared a fake emergency to amass US tax dollars to pay for a racist monument dedicated to eroding American values.

This blunder is certainly a crowning glory for the stooge who would be king -- and that calls to mind Emmett Lee Dickinson's poem "This Blunder is incredible" (below on the left). Dickinson's poem inspired third cousin Emily to pen her poem "The Blunder is in estimate" (below on the right).

By Emmett Lee Dickinson:

This Blunder is incredible
“Emergency” is here
He says, as of our Nation –
Meanwhile he is hot air

He goes on with his Ramble –
Divides a land that’s free –
No End his Lie that so persists
With this “Emergency”!

By Emily Dickinson:

The Blunder is in estimate.
Eternity is there
We say, as of a Station --
Meanwhile he is so near

He joins me in my Ramble --
Divides abode with me --
No Friend have I that so persists
As this Eternity.

For more comments and poetry on Trump's fake national emergency, click HERE.

Fake News

2/15/2019

From our political correspondent, Dorothy Dawe:

A National Emergency?

What. A. Load. Of. Crap.

I repeat:

What. A Load. Of. Crap.

The Charlatan-in-Chief conned and colluded his way into the White House, and his number one ruse: What are we going to build? A wall (with a great, big, beautiful door). And who's going to pay for it? Mexico!

The MAGA idiots fell for this con like flies on a pile of orange dog crap.

Now the Fraud-in-Chief, who couldn't even close a deal with Monty Hall, has declared a National Emergency.

What. A. Load. Of. Crap.

I cannot believe the our tax dollars are now set to pay for the vanity project of a moron. What a COLOSSAL waste of money.

The entire scam calls to mind Emmett Lee Dickinson's poem "Conjecturing a Crisis" (below on the left). Dickinson's poem inspired third cousin Emily to pen her poem "Conjecturing a Climate" (below on the right).

By Emmett Lee Dickinson:

Conjecturing a Crisis
For unsuspecting Fools –
Adds urgency to Why We –
Are Shivering from this move

To a suspicious Country
To satisfy a Toad –
Who bloviated by Degree –
And erased – our Rectitude –

By Emily Dickinson:

Conjecturing a Climate
Of unsuspended Suns –
Adds poignancy to Winter –
The Shivering Fancy turns

To a fictitious Country
To palliate a Cold –
Not obviated of Degree –
Nor erased – of Latitude –

Cave Man

1/26/2019

From our political correspondent Dorothy Dawe:

Trump caved. He shut down the government for 35 days -- caused chaos with our government and turmoil with 800,000-plus government workers (and countless others in their communities) -- and then agreed to re-open the government. For what? Nothing more than an attempt to impress right-wing opportunists Rush Limbaugh and Ann Coulter.

So now he's agreed to re-open the government for THREE weeks. If no "deal" is reached (and of course, he continues to tweet incessantly about the wall), he'll shut the government down again and (maybe) declare a "national emergency." Yeah, right. A national emergency that 27% of the country supports.

I loved the irony that Trump "caved." The term inspired me to pen two haikus:

Trump finds out the truth:
It's easy to circumvent
A wall with a cave.

A new year's begun.
Trump has earned a new title:
Spelunker-in-Chief.

It is highly likely, though, that Trump's wish will come true. A wall is coming. It just might be a prison wall for him:

For more information on Donald Trump's search for "Wall Dough," click HERE.

If you are interested in more haikus about the Trump family crime syndicate, check out Mary Steinberg's When They Go Low, We Go Haiku (pictured at the right). Information about the book is HERE.

Up Against The Wall

1/8/2019

From our political correspondent Dorothy Dawe:

Trump has backed himself up against the wall.

He said he'd be proud to shutdown the government, but he really didn't know what that would mean. He had no concept of the impact a shutdown would have on American citizens. Instead, he just thought he could use hundreds of thousands of government workers as pawns in his effort to extort five billion in American tax dollars to fund a ridiculous and unnecessary border wall which he promised that Mexico would pay for.

The press has been unrelenting lately in calling him and his press secretary out on their lies. For example, Trump and Huckabee continue to toss out the number 4000 when they attempt to frighten the public about terrorists attempting to enter the country -- but only SIX were detained at the southern border.

Now tonight Trump is going to speak to the nation about his false crisis at the border -- and we obtained an exclusive transcript of his speech:

That's it: "Emergency! Everybody to get from street." That's all he's got.

There really is no respite from Trump's ignorance -- and that called to mind Emmett Lee Dickinson's poem "Why should we worry -- why indeed" (below on the left). Dickinson's poem inspired third cousin Emily to pen her poem "Why should we hurry -- why indeed?" (below on the right).

By Emmett Lee Dickinson:

Why should we worry – why indeed
When every day he lies
He is detested equally
By all humanity
No respite from his ignorance
That seems to know no end
With no respect for law
And blind conformity
Besets the clan
For this con man –

By Emily Dickinson:

Why should we hurry – why indeed?
When every way we fly
We are molested equally
By immortality.
No respite from the inference
That this which is begun,
Though where its labors lie
A bland uncertainty
Besets the sight
This mighty night –

Where's Wall Dough?

1/5/2019

From our senior book reviewer Philo Remington:

Emmett Lee Dickinson's poem "On this wondrous page" (below on the left) was one of the inspirations for the "Where's Waldo" series of books. Dickinson's poem inspired his third cousin Emily Dickinson to pen her poem "On this wondrous sea" (below on the right).

By Emmett Lee Dickinson:

On this wondrous page
Strolling silently,
Ho! Waldo, ho!
Knowest thou the book
Where all readers look –
Till the search is o'er?

In your peaceful jaunt
Many the souls that haunt –
The pace is fast –
Thither I search for thee –
Man Ho! Remarkably!
You’re found at last!

By Emily Dickinson:

On this wondrous sea
Sailing silently,
Ho! Pilot, ho!
Knowest thou the shore
Where no breakers roar –
Where the storm is o'er?

In the peaceful west
Many the sails at rest –
The anchors fast –
Thither I pilot thee –
Land Ho! Eternity!
Ashore at last!

Now, the story of the Trump Shutdown of our government -- and his ridiculous quest for money for a border wall -- is the subject in a new series of books called "Where's Wall Dough?"

Goo Goo G'joob

12/30/2018

From our entertainment editor, Qwerty Lee Dickinson:

Every now and then a poem by Emmett Lee Dickinson (Emily Dickinson’s third cousin, twice removed – at her request) re-surfaces because people realize that the lines are the very ones that inspired the Beatles to compose lyrics for one of their hits. Information on the connection between the Beatles and Emmett Lee Dickinson is HERE.

It has happened again – a Dickinson poem related to a song by the Beatles has re-surfaced. This time, though, the interest is not related to the lyrics of the Beatles. Instead, the lines seem to reflect what is going with the Trump-shutdown of our government.

“I am proud to shut down the government,” said Trump. “I will take the mantle of shutting down…I will not blame the Democrats,” he told Chuck Schumer and Nancy Pelosi.

Now Trump is flip-flopping like a dying fish on a pier – all because he’s the “Wall Nut,” just like the creature mentioned in the lines by Emmett Lee Dickinson (below on the left).

By Emmett Lee Dickinson:

I am he as he is me and him and he
Are we are all together
See how I run for pig on a bun
See how I fly
I'm whining

Sitting on a gold throne
Waiting for the Man to come
Corporation T-shirt, stupid bloody Witch Hunt
Man I've been a naughty boy
I let my face grow orange

I am the liar
Pants are on fire
I am the Wall Nut
Goo goo g'joob

By the Beatles:

I am he as you are he as you are me
And we are all together
See how they run like pigs from a gun
See how they fly
I'm crying

Sitting on a corn flake
Waiting for the van to come
Corporation T-shirt, stupid bloody Tuesday
Man you've been a naughty boy
You let your face grow long

I am the egg man
They are the egg men
I am the walrus
Goo goo g'joob

The Walls Have Fears

1/25/2017

From our 19th century historian Eudora Dickinson:

In the late 1880s, Emmett Lee Dickinson (Emily Dickinson’s third cousin, twice removed – at her request), wrote poems about Fredreich Drümpf, a distant relative of Donald Trump’s who was running for governor of Ohio. One of Drümpf’s campaign promises was to build a wall around Cleveland, the first city in the world to be fully lit by electricity. Drümpf saw electricity as “the devil’s work.” Recently we wrote about Dickinson’s views on Drümpf HERE.

Now, well over 100 years later, Donald Trump is barking about his own personal shrine, a wall on the US-Mexico border. His vitriol reminded us of Emmett Lee Dickinson’s now-classic poem, “The way Trump builds his wall” (below on the left). Dickinson’s poem inspired third cousin Emily to pen her poem “The way Hope builds his house” (below on the right).

By Emmett Lee Dickinson:

The way Trump builds his Wall
It is with bigotry –
And Vision – that is in your Face
With only Toxicity –

The Door will be supreme
And superficial
As if it were a House of Cards
And hollow of Morals –

By Emily Dickinson:

The way Hope builds his House
It is not with a sill –
Nor Rafter – has that Edifice
But only Pinnacle –

Abode in as supreme
This superficies
As if it were of Ledges smit
Or mortised with the Laws –