the rain for the fêting of
the man who wants to build walls.
There are freshly stained benches
matching freshly stained fences,
and a stars-and-stripes merchandise stall.
Boards prepared for treading,
with the cast all at the ready
for the open air performance of all time.
But the theatre's so grand it blocks
the town's natural beauty spots
and all that could impress the cultured mind.
In one character's aside
he pompously denies
the threats to biodiversity.
In his sililoquy he notes
how easy 'tis for him to quote
that there simply is no emergency.
There's no hint of any sentiment
about the plight of emigrants,
our own on so many foreign shores.
And it seems that the decisions
rowing back on rights of women
are met with flags from a discount store.
At the interval a choir trills
of loving sinners not their sins,
of the land of the free and of the straight.
They sing of white supremacy
and strict religiosity;
the most important banners to yet wave.
The babies that were ripped
from their parents' breasts and hips
are scripted but as parasitic pests.
And above the stage fire
there's a gun that's been hired
to give the desired effect.
Above that again
are props that represent
trophy heads so cruelly obtained.
The backdrop seems to promote
entitled men who kill for sport
and entitled laws of an entitled reign.
In this scene there's a priest
with a set of heaven seats,
an indulgence he can grant for a dime.
No such guarantees
for his local parishees,
they'll have to serve their time.
The drinks and the wool
are being not expertly pulled
by the wolves decked out in sheep's robes.
The controlling of the strings
and the understudying
is by the emperor with no clothes.
(Early in June 2019, Donald Trump, and members of his family, paid a visit to Doonbeg in Co. Clare, Ireland. Having followed the coverage I can only say I felt embarrassed to be Irish when I saw how the people of Doonbeg turned into Trump sycophants.
When interviewed the locals seemed unanimous that Donald Trump's hotel in Doonbeg brought so much employment to the area that they owed him the worship.
There are other businesses in Ireland that are foreign-owned. I know of one in particular in a village in Co. Waterford, which has regular visits from its French owners. And I know firsthand those visits don't send the whole village into hysterics.
I can understand the people of Doonbeg choosing not to stage protests, but I think they could have just gone about their business as usual.
And don't get me started on Fr. Joe Haugh promising the Trumps their places in heaven. In my opinion, this behaviour just cements Doonbeg in the Middle Ages.)
(Update: Mike Pence is due to spread more of the Trump infection by visiting Ireland next week, on 2nd September. The most polite thing I can say about that is, "yuck.")
