(All poems by Bruce Dale Wise) The Victory of Donald J. Trump in the 2020 U.S. Election by Erisbawdle Cue You can’t make something be so, if the numbers are all wrong. You can’t hide Waldo in a place where he does not belong. You can’t explain by obfuscating and be understood. You can’t use high-tech media to make a bad thing good. You can’t shout louder to make science be just what you feel. You can’t turn fiction into fact. You can’t make fake things real. You can’t keep lying constantly to make a false claim true, You can’t do all these things, and yet, a lot of people do. One’s audience can be enormous, if one writes for fools. You can’t deny reality; the Earth moves if it moves. . . Where Hyenas Howl by “Weird” Ace Blues I saw the best minds of my generation were destroyed… by fierce, demonic rats, with piercing eyes devoid of joy, by ranting, famished jackals terrorizing city streets, by bowel movements of disgusting cancel culture feats, by vultures of corruption, FBI and CIA, by rhinos running rampant over these divided states, by techno-tyranrs, unleashed virus manufacturers, by Wall-Street fat cats, vampire bank bats and their censorers, by swarms of hawks and fireants in this hard land of rocks, by worshippers of Moloch, where hyenas howl and stalk. . . A True American: January 6, 2021 by Brice U. Lawseed Within the U.S. Capitol, there still remains a debt. O, don’t forget her—Ashli Babbitt—who was shot to death. An Air Force veteran and California resident, she had gone to D.C., protesting the fake President. Who murdered her—that patriot—protesting the deceit, the national enshrining of complete dishonesty? O, don’t forget her, though the hateful bullet pierced her through, a martyr for America, a martyr for the truth. O, don’t forget her—Ashli Babbitt—who was shot to death— for longing to be free and breathe free, she gave her last breath. . .