It was never about red.
It was about a man—
a felon, a fraud, a con, a lie.
A man who never looked past his own reflection,
who only saw gold when we saw fire.
And then came the billionaire,
whispering promises laced with dollar signs,
turning power into private property.
No ballots, no voices, no vetting—
just a man with too much money
and no accountability.
They talk about waste.
They talk about fraud.
But when the auditors knock,
they answer with hackers,
deleting the proof before dawn.
Jobs lost.
Lives erased.
No receipts, no reasons—just trust the script kiddies,
fresh out of their dorm rooms,
with no clearance, no conscience, no clue.
And the food—
it rots in silence,
while the farmers scream into the wind,
told to wait for a help
that will never come.
And the prices?
He said “Day one.”
But eggs break higher,
inflation climbs faster.
And while he blames the man before him,
he fumbles with tariffs
like a child playing with matches
in a field of dry grass.
JD in Germany,
a fool among those
who remember what happens
when the loud minority
takes center stage.
They built firewalls.
Where’s ours?
And the war—
the drunken man says, “Just give them land.”
As if land is just dirt,
as if homes, families, history
can be signed away like a bad business deal.
The aggressor is not the victim.
The thief is not the hero.
And Gaza—
“Make them leave,” he says.
An ethnic cleansing painted in patriotic tones.
But what of the homeless here?
The veterans? The hungry?
America First—except when it’s inconvenient.
He tried to erase our trans siblings,
wiped them from history, from records, from rights.
But we see you.
We hold you.
We will not let you disappear.
First, you came for the immigrants—
made them run,
locked them up,
sent them to die.
Then you came for the trans—
stripped their names,
their bodies,
their existence.
Then you came for the children,
born here, raised here,
but suddenly not American enough.
Then you came for the Indigenous,
the first people,
the only ones who never needed
your papers to belong.
Then you came for the women—
changed their names,
closed their polls,
built walls between them and the ballot.
And you wrap your hate in scripture,
twist the cross into a club,
wave the Bible like a flag,
but never open the pages.
You put commandments in schools,
but steal food from the mouths of children.
And the leaders—
the addict who denies the cure,
the Russian asset in the war room,
the man who bows to the orange god,
the one who wields money like a weapon
and calls it freedom.
They will scream when the gavel falls.
They will cry when justice knocks.
They will call it tyranny,
but the truth has no party.
The truth does not kneel to power.
And the people will rise
because the people remember.
Faith in the Cracks - Allowing God to seep into the cracks in our lives. 
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