Resistance Poetry by Gordon Gilbert

Dictator Donald Trump / Portrait by Allen Forrest

 

Resistance Poetry

by Gordon Gilbert

 

The Resistance 

I am liquid, fluid, hydraulic,

and cannot be contained.

You squeeze me, only to see

how I squirt out of crevices,

jet out through pinholes,

rupture the weakest points

of your containment.

 

I am the many-headed hydra

of your guilt-ridden dreams,

disturbing your sleep.

I shall not let you rest.

In your nightmares, I shall multiply

from every wound I suffer at your hands,

as you more frantic grow

in your attempts to cut me down.

 

I am the medusa

you dare not confront directly.

So you dwell in many-mirrored rooms

and halls of false reflections.

The time shall come

when thieves of night unloosed

shall steal into your well-lit chambers,

dousing well-placed torches,

snuffing out your candles.

In mirrored rooms and hallways,

darkened now,

hammer-laden fists shall strike out,

shattering every smooth reflective surface.

Disturbed from sleep, awakened,

you will arising light

the oil lamp you keep beside your bed,

only to reveal what you fear most,

my monstrous snake-locked visage

that shall turn your flesh to stone.