4 POEMS by Ben Nardolilli

Nauseated Drive has published 4 POEMS by me. I say POEMS because that's how they chose to title the section about my works. I guess one by itself is still a poem but taken together they are POEMS. So head on over and read them.

A Collective of Poems in Collective Unrest

Five poems of mine are up at Collective Unrest. They are of a political nature. One is about Redlining, and the rest are from a series I've been working on called "La Resistance." I started them after Trump's inauguration. The title is partially a self-deprecating joke.

Trump's 2020 Campaign Poster

If let's Make America Great Again could be taken from Reagan:

Then his 2020 Campaign can steal from Lyndon LaRouche:

A Poem from the FBI

When we went after the Communists, it was okay,
Because they were Communists, after all

When we went after the Socialists, it was okay,
Because they were sort of like Communists, right?

When we went after the activists, it was okay,
Because they wanted to help the Reds

And when we went after the Blacks, it was okay,
Because they were all Red underneath

When we went after the anti-War types, it was okay
Because the wars were against Communists

When we went after the terrorists, it was okay
Because they were terrorists, it’s simple

(When we went after the kids in basements
Making bombs with instructions we gave them,
It was okay because they were terrorists too)

Then we went after the Anti-War types again
Because the wars were against terrorists

But look, now the President is going after us,
Come on patriots! Why aren’t you in the streets?

I Wrote a Spoof

To the tune of "I Pity the Poor Immigrant"

I pity the poor president

Who wishes he would've stayed home

Who uses all his power to do evil

But in the end is always left so alone

That man whose tiny fingers cheats

And who lies with every breath

Who passionately hates his wife

And likewise, loves immigrants’ death

I pity the poor president

Who does nothing but complain

Whose chief enemy is poor ratings

Whose tweets are insane

Who rules but is not satisfied

Who fears and is never free

Who goes to fight with truth itself

And breaks the law with glee

I pity the poor president

Who drags us through the mud

Who steals and golfs while laughing

And who covers other lands in blood

Whose rule in the final end

Must shatter like the glass

I pity the poor president

When our judgment comes to pass