Race race race and then some more about race . . .
(As if we cared that much about your face.)
God bestows His beauty in diverse hues.
You’ll never learn this lesson from fake news.
Be a grateful citizen of His grace.
Nature of the Enemy
Cadaver animated by Marxism
Corpse possessed by militancy
Dead body filled with resentment
Zombie legions stirred by revolution
Mortuaries quickened by Dialectical Materialism
Necropolises of confrontation
Armies of dysfunctional ignorance
No! you won’t ‘eed nothin’ else
But them spicy garlic smells,
An’ the sunshine an’ the palm-trees an’ the tinkly temple-bells;
On the road to Mandalay . . .
Sullen she sits
in her shimmering fabric
scowling at her adoptive nation.
for soap-opera news
in her language.
Half-hidden behind the register
where she sells something every few hours
to someone from her country
purchasing those weird snacks:
dried minnows with mango,
fish with curried betel-nut,
tamarind-flavored shrimp . . .
Hey lady, you look funny
with that white paste
smeared all over your face.
You look like a ghost.
Did Buddha make you put it on?
Hey lady, don’t you know how to smile
and serve the public?
Maybe you should learn English.
Why did you come here, anyway?