What is it They Want

What is it they want;

To live under a bubble

Of pure shiny white?

Existing void of color

A Leave it to Beaver world.


Stirring up hatred,

This group or that is to blame,

Banish them for good.

Spy your own family tree

And you just might be amazed.


What are they after

When they’re stomping on the poor,

Calling them lazy,

Treating each as a moocher

Unworthy of compassion.



Disgraceful stereotypes.

Shameless in their rant

African Americans,

Mexicans and the Chinese.


Supremacists rise

Rallying around their bile,

But they take no blame,

They’re taken out of context

They would like you to believe.


War, war, war, war, war

Look at their warmongering,

Death brings them such joy.

It’s not theirs that fight and die

They are ours, they’re yours and mine!


Privatize they cry,

Programs for the public good,

Vouchers for us all.

Business doesn’t work for us

It’s all about the profit.


FDR was right,

To enact social reforms

A cure for our ills.

Keeping the wealthy in check

For the benefit of all.


Watch as fortunes fall,

Not those of robber barons

But instead yours–mine.

The oligarchs won’t feel it

This is by their own design.


Sadly we’ve stepped back

Trusting our fates to the rich.

How foolish we are!

Painful lessons are ne’er learned

Thus are destined to repeat.


~~ Dominic R. DiFrancesco ~~

Pointing Out Problems

Pointing out problems

Does not a solution make,

Trump is no genius!

Those of his ilk made this mess

Now you think he can fix it.

The boy who cried wolf

That is all he really is

…You’ve fallen for it.


~~ Dominic R. DiFrancesco ~~

Promises Break

Promises break like straw under foot,

Brittle, bending, crumbling under slightest weight,

No longer bound to man’s word.

Instead they are simply words of convenience,

Placating the concerned,

Enveloping those amongst the unconvinced.

Like sheep are these believers,

Led about by their staff laden necks,

Given sustenance just to hush their words.

No longer is honor a cornerstone,

A pillar of trust, as valued as a kings ransom,

Degraded, they are nothing but syllables, hollow and meaningless.

Yes, they may be voiced with a smile,

A handshake if the orator is so moved,

Yet sadly these have become standard props for their theatrics.

When did this happen,

When did the worth of a man become worthless,

When did men cower to pretense?

Maybe always, maybe of recent past, maybe today,

Knowing they are played like the strings of a mandolin,

But unable to reconcile their buffoonery.

One day the blinders may be lifted from impaired eyes,

Revealing the wolf cloaked in statesmen’s fashion,

Only then might shame resurrect us.


~~ Dominic R. DiFrancesco ~~