The world looked on in disbelief

As a newly crowned Commander-in-Chief

Was appointed

There, America played its TRUMP

Card. Now, everyone’s got the hump.

Marred with violence and social unrest

As Donald puffs out his chest

And declares he will “make America

Great again!” Build a great wall

To keep out the Mexicans.

Dividing us all with his

Inflammatory lexicon

Shooting himself in the foot… regularly

As America does every-day… literally

With its unhealthy obsession

With the right to bear arms

Ownership and possession

Should cause the world alarm

He touches in on the disillusionment

Of the far right

With democracy as we know it and the government

More famous for his comb over hair

Orange complexion akin to

Someone from “Charlie & the Chocolate Factory”

(‘Ooompa; Loompa, diddly do, I’ve got another puzzle for you)

He’s all about money & misogyny

Funny & wrong you see

Seemingly in bed with Russ-


He could cause a war at the touch-


Of a button and the crush-


Ripple effect it would have on the West

The frightening deed is

The lightning speed which

All this could happen

Bullet fire

And blood-soaked shrapnel

Because America was tired

Of losing their jobs

Of being ruled by the bankers

And “democratic” elite

Yes, they’re a bunch of….

Things that I can’t repeat

Does that mean you vote

For a stick of dynamite

Who preens and gloats

To win over the far right

A PR nightmare

A firebrand!

A political novice

Who’s got out of hand

Picking fights with Kim Jong Un

Despot dictator of North Korea

Leaves little room

For anything but nuclear



We are defenceless

Against such trigger-happy lunatics

Seems like a cruel card trick

By the universe

A sleight of hand

Rather perverse


Written by and copyright of

Ken Hume



Easter Rising of My Heart

(Rebellion of Love)

On 29th April 1916,
After 6 days of ferocious fighting
Heavy losses; bloodied pavements
Battered ideals
Padraig Pearse agreed
To the unconditional surrender of arms
To the British Army.
They had made their statement
To the world.
Fiercely they had fought their fight,
Shed their blood
Then bravely laid down their lives
In the hope for a new; liberated Ireland.

100 years later
(Tired of waging constant war with myself
Of battling the darker side of me
Rebelling against the intimacy I craved
Keeping everybody at arm’s length
For fear of getting hurt)
On 29th of April, 2016, I Ken Hume
Agree to the unconditional surrender
Of my arms… my legs, my mind,
Heart, body and soul
To the ruler of my Island
President of my Republic
To the Queen of my Empire.
Anne-Marie Stones.

Royal, Unbowed
I will gladly bow to the knee to her.
My very own Countess Markievicz
Fiery; principled; headstrong
Courageous and compassionate
Willing to sacrifice herself
For the greater good of others
Willing to die for her beliefs
Willing to stand up
For the rights and liberties
Of those less fortunate than herself

This is the Easter Rising of my Heart
For this Easter Rising I will start
A Rebellion of Love
A Rebellion that will shove
Back all the foreign forces
That have invaded my soul
And sought to take control
A Rebellion
That will break down the walls
I’ve built around my heart

I will now gladly surrender
I will now gladly empty my guns
And lay down my arms
I will stop fighting
I will wave the white flag
And embrace the very thing
Of which I’ve lived in fear
The vulnerability of loving completely
And of being loved.

In the Easter Rising of my Heart,
I was shot.
Fatally wounded by her unconditional love
For me.
A bullet of undying affection forever lodged in my heart
A new; liberated me emerged from the rubble
Dead to self.
Alive to love.

This is the Easter Rising of my Heart
For this Easter Rising I will start
A Rebellion of Love.”

What Words and Wounds

What words remain unspoken
Or feelings left out of reach
What hearts have been broken
Where departed lovers forced a breach
What dreams are now fading
Out of breath, run out of steam
Things we hoped for, cascading
Away, ripped apart at the seams

What wounds remain unhealed
Covered up by skin and bone
What lips have been long sealed
By things we’re forced to condone
What innocence has been lost
By deeds done for love or war
The dark of the night has left a cost
That too many folk don’t abhor

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