Rap Me Under, by Ingrid Bruck

Trump fanatics around here
make me wanna loose my head.

Walk in the woods
you meet local thugs,

the gun toting kind
with Make America Great in mind.

They gather weekends for gun shoots,
automatic weapons discharge instead of bird hoots,

rifles and revolvers repeat fire.
KKK gets into shape to make nice,

those makers of strange fruit next door,
sometimes, I don’t wanna live here no more.

Lowing cows, birdsong, hum of bees in my garden,
in the cacophony of gunfire, my ears harden.


Ingrid Bruck lives in Amish country in Pennsylvania, a landscape that inhabits her poetry, she protests American gun madness. Her poetry appears at www.ingridbruck.com 
I Am Not A Silent Poet has published some of her protest poems.

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