Great Again

Great again.

Great like ball games

And road trips,

American flags

And church potlucks.

Great like a home-cooked meal at six

Respect for your elders

And actual conversation.

Great like homecoming dances

And the national anthem;

Love for Flag, God and Country,

To thee, I pledge.

Great like soda fountains,

And Drive-In movies

The Ten Commandments

And those damn commie bastards.

Great like 

The perpetual and proud roll of

White-walled wheels

Before Detroit 

Became a punchline.

Great again like

Living the American Dream

Presented on a 

Blasphemy-free beaming box

Of blissful hope

And life-changing appliances.

Great like late-night shows

And Rebels without a Cause

Rat Pack rhymes



That still had soul.

Great like sacrosanct springing suburbs

With two-car garages

And no bursting bubbles

Of greed, overflown.

Great like the astral aspirations

Of an entire generation

And a race 

to the stars.

Great again 

Like the mad men days

Of slinging a two-bit smile at some broad

And then a slap on the ass as she walks by

Her inner rage subdued

By the echoes of her high-heeled retreat

And practice.

Great like the end of the wife’s

Goddamn nagging

Being found at the beginning of a thumb

Tightly grasping four fingers and delivered

On the rocks.

Great like choice found

On the end

Of a coat-hanger.

Great again like the good ol’ days

Of white picket fences, made in the U.S.A.

And white picket neighbours who were as well.

Great like nuclear families

With Nuclear dreams

And a God-given right

To 9mm of salvation.

Great like the annihilation of ancestral abodes

The promise of restitution 

Now just pipe dreams and tears.

Great like the right kind over here

And “your kind” over there

Did you hear what I said to you, boy?

Great like segregated schools for segregated homes,

No unnatural unions of this or that nature

None of that devil’s music and improper gyration

No bathroom bills or gender improvisation

All fixed behind closed doors 

with enforced reformation

To Protect and to Serve just one population,

And helped by the business end 

Of a truncheon. 

Great again

like good ol’ boy justice

Served by shrouded mob

And hooded robes

Out of a dusty pickup at 2 am.

They shoulda’ known their place,

In this ‘great again’ nation.

D.C. Cavalleri

European expat, author & poet 

In an age of global discord and argumentative clashing, D. C. Cavalleri hopes that his multicultural story and philosophically-accessible writings might help bridge the cultural divide that has become so pervasively entrenched. It is his greatest dream that, by slamming ink to paper, he might inspire young and old to realise that even though we may speak in different tongues and bow to different gods, we do so as one, unified under the homogeneously human experience of simply being.

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Volume 14, Issue 8, Posted 3:27 PM, 04.17.2018