Dog Whistle

By Alex M

Careful who you call for…

the dog whistle brings all the hounds.

You can’t pick which packs come running,

trailing other parasite species, too.

Some come only salivating,

trained to feed at this bell’s toll,

slobbering to gorge at this greedy trough,

but others are conditioned

to prey soon as pitch sounds.


Even rabid strays show en force

bloodlust crazed, foaming at the mouth.

Alt-right conference, pre-inauguration

three-piece vested storm troopers

goose stepping on the capital


                “Hail Trump,” they shout

                when the speech concludes

                with diagonal, right-armed

                exclamation points,

                symbolic windows baring

                inner genocidal desires.


Coyotes picked to guard the heartland posts,

watching over our vulnerable flock,

renowned for breeding anywhere,

feeding off the flesh of runts and orphans.

How will any lamb or calf but the golden

survive the winter winds and frosts

when canine scavengers keep the gates

of knowledge pastures’ verdant hope?


Guard dogs bristle and growl,

hyped and puffed by the shrill.

Bite first, shoot first, they’ve been trained,

blame the unarmed mailman later.


Khan’s hordes return from the grave

riding Death’s fabled pale mounts,

driven by calls to weaponize their shafts,

rape their status cementifier.

“Grab ‘em by the pussy, first,

ask questions never,”

all misogyny’s soldiers chant.


Look who you called for…

your dog whistle brought all the hounds.

You couldn’t choose which packs came bounding

trailing other parasite species, too.

Some came only salivating,

trained to feed at this bell’s toll,

greedy, ugly pigs but well understood.

Yet others were conditioned,

began preying soon as your pitch sounded.

Alex M is a brother who is currently incarcerated. 

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