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An photograph of Donald Trump in the newspaper, except his mouth has been ripped off.

UnWord

November 21, 2020
by 
UNWORD, a poem by Kathleen Casey. At what point does one say of a man 
that he has become unreal?—Anne Carson Propaganda has consciously obscured 
the meaning of words in order to throw 
our mind into confusion.
-—Eugene Ionesco UNWORD UnWord monsters air like rotting
 bells Clangs his mouth too loud 
for its small People cheer Curl
 Flap their hands like flabby
 flounder Boundless bellowed
 up in drowning chants louding
 there UnWord marks his crowd 
Streps a shout Gods his tongue
 Warps the air like polio Creeps
 a bit Drips an anthrax hoof and
 mouth Works the crowd like
 crippled cats in cradles Strings
 them up in nests of rage Tunnels
 vision Rabids fraud Plasters lies
 Shouts absurdities like an only
 Wrapped Up Gift of Christmas 
and a Merry Rictus to Us All 
UnWord licks his blind white 
teeth Snakes his wounds trailing
 wound around a jaundiced tale 
of uncooked smoke He bawls 
then stoops to feed on loathsome
 things like fattened gnats Wraps 
his flags with flabby viscous skin 
Lets loose Grinds his reds and
 whites and blues with blood and
 spittle noosed up on that pole...

 

________

Kathleen Casey is an artist and poet living nervously beneath several slumbering volcanoes. She holds a degree in fine art and has received awards for her photography, illustration and graphic design.

Photo by Charles Deluvio.

________

‘Just like propaganda:’ The three men enabling Trump’s voter fraud lies
[The Guardian]

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