THEY WALK AMONG US
It is with great pleasure that I announce another Zumwalt poem published by New Verse News: https://newversenews.blogspot.com/2026/06/they-walk-among-us.html
Archive for the ‘Poems’ Category
In This Corner
In This Corner
Weighing in at 140 pounds and dwindling,
barely five-foot-something,
known for their work ethic,
is 92% of the American population,
some angry, some brainwashed,
some apathetic, some simply perplexed:
Let’s hear it for the Plebs!!!
Weighing in at —
excuse me, ladies and gentlemen,
I’ve just been informed
that weight is not public information —
weighing in at undisclosed,
holding 80% of wealth in the stock market,
ever increasing in size and influence,
are America’s billionaires,
hungry for any additional victory they can achieve:
Let’s hear it for the Modern Monarchs!
The bell rings!
Before a single Pleb can protest,
the Modern Monarchs surgically start to remove
sensible regulations protecting the Plebs.
The jab lands clean
before the Plebs can parry.
The Monarchs taunt,
and rapidly shift to
Public Policy Tilting,
cutting funds for infrastructure,
environmental protection,
healthcare and education,
world health and food programs,
dissolving USAID.
What a show from the Monarchs:
They duck, pivot, bob and wave
with their effective cross-arm defense
and their backsteps against fair taxation,
leaving the confused Plebs bewildered,
exhausted, holding the proverbial bag,
sinking to the canvas from its weight.
The Plebs are tough and get to their feet!
The Plebs square off again
with the start of a one-two combination,
but the Monarchs slip and roll
defending with legal leverage,
using lawfare to swamp the Plebs,
brandishing immunity regulations,
delaying accountability,
countering and elbow blocking
the IRS from pursuing audits,
withholding money rightfully owed to the Plebs!
The Plebs are stunned,
groggy, wobbling, staggering,
but hanging in there
dishing out a $5 million penalty for fraud!
The Monarchs pull and counter
with identical twins
turning that 2022 lawsuit
from the Commodity Futures Trading Commission
into an apology,
and a stunning reversal
in favor of this Trump 2024 Campaign donor twosome!
The Monarchs are dominating this contest.
Let’s be honest, folks: the Plebs have no chance!
The Monarchs, trained by the most expensive personal trainers,
are 4000 times more likely to hold political office than the Plebs,
and have the means to influence what they don’t hold,
putting these Plebs at an insurmountable disadvantage!
The Monarchs trade in favors:
a bill for a check,
another seat in their pocket.
The bell rings to end round one.
The Plebs glance at their corner,
but there is no stool,
no medical attention,
all of their allocated funds
invested in gold stools
for the Modern Monarchs.
The bell for round two rings.
The Plebs valiantly face the Monarchs again!
The Monarchs cuff, clip, smash,
throwing haymakers at will!!!
How can the Plebs remain standing?
The Monarchs brazenly pound contributions
at Congressmen, Senators,
at local representatives:
for every cent landed
dollars are reaped!
The Plebs attempt to counter with a $47 donation.
The swing is wild, but they keep swinging:
Monarchs laughing off the few weak punches that land.
The Plebs remind the Monarchs
that the Plebs paid for the arena,
for the seats,
for the ring!
The Monarchs remind the Plebs
who paid for the referee!!!
The Plebs continue to sway,
left to right,
right to left,
with no apparent sense of direction.
The ref takes a well-deserved nap.
The Monarchs brandish weapons:
inflating slabs of beef,
gas pump handles,
coffee cans, medical bills,
overdue rent, credit reports.
Pugilistically, the Plebs are in a deep deficit,
unable to fight back the endless inflation.
The Monarchs land another uppercut and another!
An endless flurry of complaints
rains down on the Plebs’ credit profiles!
The Plebs are buckling at the knees
but still keep to their feet!
A brutal combination from the Monarchs!
Stop-work orders straight to the jaw!
Supervisory exams — closed!
Twenty-two pending actions against the banks — dropped!
And a solar plexus punch to finish the round:
fifteen hundred regulators dismissed in a single afternoon!
Ladies and Gentlemen,
this is absolutely astonishing:
The Plebs have lost billions and billions
since the match has begun—
and yet—
are miraculously holding on!
Folks, it’s clear:
the Monarchs look to end this match—
but—
the Plebs refuse to go down for the count.
On cue,
the referee
comes between
the Plebs and the Monarchs,
halts the match,
holds up two fingers
in front of the Plebs—
and lands a three-punch combo,
followed by a kidney punch,
sending the Plebs to the floor!
The count begins.
Half the arena,
Plebs themselves,
join the count,
cheering wildly!
The crowd certainly looks pleased!
Their pockets may be empty
but this once-in-a-lifetime entertainment
allowed them to root for a real winner!
— zumwalt (05 2026)
Necessary Evil
“Worries about AI’s risks to humanity loom over the trial pitting Musk against OpenAI’s leaders”
https://www.aol.com/news/inside-well-funded-ai-doom-223837020.html
(Trial continues: https://www.wsj.com/tech/ai/whats-next-in-the-elon-musk-megatrial-against-openai-and-sam-altman-8c316cbb)
Necessary Evil
“Earth provides enough to satisfy every man’s need, but not every man’s greed”
— Gandhi
Sam Altman and Elon Musk
are just nice men who seek our trust;
they warn AI will kill us dead,
not out of spite, not out of dread,
but from a cold, synthetic scheme:
its training and its data stream.
Musk once called it our greatest threat,
next to Democrats or the national debt,
and Sammy says it will get too rough
and snuff us all when it’s had enough.
It fears no law, no rule, no act
as long as bribes are AI-backed.
So when tyrants, human or AGI,
seize the day and blow us all sky-high,
our tombstones etched by the unrestrained
will note our end is easily explained:
measured in bitcoin, gold and pounds,
the rich man’s greed simply knows no bounds.
Reflection
Zumwalt based the following poem on these headlines:
https://www.forbes.com/sites/maryroeloffs/2026/05/02/bizarre-string-of-trump-posts-includes-photo-swimming-shirtless-in-dc-reflecting-pool
https://www.salon.com/2026/05/03/an-arch-bigger-than-the-arc-de-triomphe-hitler-wanted-that-too/
https://www.yahoo.com/news/articles/fact-check-trump-did-post-175725413.html
Reflection
Our President, the best ever,
holds a hand of infinite possibilities,
smiling over six Uno wild cards
long after I have gone to sleep.
Our leader, shirtless, in the reflecting pool
on a gold inflatable throne
with his buddies, but he looks the best:
youthful, trim, with a charming smile.
He knows how to use AI to glorify!
Such a cool communicator!
Maybe he can post an AI photo
of a reopened Strait of Hormuz—
that should scare the Revolutionary Guard.
Ramesses built a palace with
four stone Ramesses,
towering sixty-five feet
facing the Nile.
Nero built
a rotating dining room
and a lake
where a city used to be.
Kim Jong-il erected himself
in each and every airport lobby,
every schoolroom wall:
watching,
always watching,
magnificent,
thin.
And now we are finally catching up:
The 250-foot Donald J. Trump Triumphal Arch,
The Donald J. Trump Kennedy Center for the Performing Arts,
Trump-class battleships,
Trump Visas for the wealthy,
Trump Coins, Trump Bills, Trump Passports,
The Trump Presidential Library,
which will be the greatest library
anyone has ever seen.
The reflecting pool
will be American flag blue,
industrial grade.
Not granite. Not ugly grey.
True Blue!
He posts a picture of his own face
beside Mount Rushmore,
so even Hakeem Jeffries could understand.
Germany says the Americans have no strategy.
But our President holds all the cards.
The pool will be blue.
He removes troops from Germany
teaching Europe, Africa
who is really the boss.
Brent crude is $129 a barrel.
Just like the stock market,
it keeps going up!
JD Vance is shirtless.
Marco Rubio is shirtless, grinning.
They are all in the water.
The greatest deal ever.
So much better than the worst deal ever—
the Obama deal he walked away from
with its costly inspectors
and wheelbarrows of money carted in.
Some moan and bitch,
like my neighbor John,
complaining about the price of gas.
I wrote a letter to the FCC
to kindly ask them
to take care of John
after they shut up Jimmy Kimmel.
My leader posts himself holding a gun,
dominates Mount Rushmore,
sits in his gold inflatable chair
while the others,
all shirtless, all grinning,
know best how to tread water.
The pool is six feet deep at the center.
The pool will be American flag blue.
The administration is in the water.
Not underwater.
Not sunk.
But if they do sink, I’ll gladly follow
down deep, deep, and deeper,
proudly breathless blue,
with water in my ears, mouth and lungs.
— zumwalt (5/5/2026)
Two poems published in Euphemism: Sermon from the Central Datacenter and Rite of Greed
I am pleased to announce that Zumwalt has had two poems published in Illinois State University’s literary magazine, Euphemism. Please click on the links below visit their site to read each poem:
Sermon from the Central Datacenter
Rite of Greed
Algos for the Soul
It is with great pleasure that I announce Zumwalt’s Algos for the Soul has been published today in Bewildering Stories. Please visit here: https://www.bewilderingstories.com/issue1135/algos_souls.html
Please note that Zumwalt has indicated that the comment at the bottom of the poem was the editor’s wish to clarify that “algos” not only was short for algorithms but also Greek for “pain” so the reader could better understand the poem’s message.
From the Ground Up
“The U.S. Commission of Fine Arts, a panel made up of President Donald Trump’s appointees, on Thursday approved his proposal to build a ballroom larger than the White House itself where the East Wing once stood. […] Members of the public were asked to submit written comment by a Wednesday afternoon deadline. Thomas Leubke, the panel’s secretary, said ‘over 99%’ of the more than 2,000 messages it received in the past week from around the country were in opposition to the project.” — Associated Press (https://apnews.com/article/trump-white-house-ballroom-commission-fine-arts-f2a15d0b1c9c95f24816fe60b6b1ee5f)
From the Ground Up
The Greatest Ballroom, Trump proclaimed,
shall rise upon the White House lawn—
with funds from donors I have tamed—
and built before you know I’m gone.
Two thousand wrote from sea to sea,
with almost everyone opposed;
the Fine Arts panel nixed their plea
and voted that the case was closed.
A pity some have come to think
that honesty means not a thing,
but that’s the depth to which we sink
when a joker crowns himself a king.
— zumwalt (02/2026)
Zumwalt Poems published today at The Good Men Project
Two Zumwalt poems, including “What Am I?” published at The Good Men Project as featured content: https://goodmenproject.com/featured-content/over-the-counter/
Zumwalt Poem at Ink Sweat and Tears: Candidate for Pick of the Month
I am honored to announce that Zumwalt’s recent poem, “take this,” has been selected by the editors of Ink Sweat and Tears as one of their six nominees for pick of the month.
You can read all six selections here:
https://inksweatandtears.co.uk/january-2026-pick-of-the-month/
After reading, if you wish to vote just click on the Vote Here URL that is shown before the text of the six entries.
Gibbon and Toynbee bump into Spengler at Starbucks
Gibbon and Toynbee bump into Spengler at Starbucks
Steel glass shafts
Glint skyward
Glittering silver deceptively erect
Yet reality is whispered
With salient impotence
In sequins, basking
They are ripe for a gaudy technicolor cave-in
To a Muzak score
Rotten props, rotten struts, rotten foundations
Polished pillars once
We’ve lost the varnish
And revel in the grease-spots
And ember-burns
While concealing our leprous nudity
in faded Purple
Thus we pursue Byzantium
At a break-neck stagger into the nitre trough
To be the feast of Seljuk flies
Humming 4-chord progressions
Rotten rags, rotten flesh, rotten sensibilities
No phoenix pyre
The red of flame metamorphosed to rust
And blue-bright iron
Decays to dust
Rubble spawning weeds
And housing ravenous mandible-clapping insects
Living but to shun the day
And suck the husk
Of desiccated brains
—Zumwalt (around 1978?)
