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  November 2017
volume 14 number 2
-table of contents-
  home   (archived)
  featured poets
  Jonathan Beale
  Marjorie R Becker
  Catherine Berry
  Robert Beveridge
  Bill Cunningham
  Jack Harvey
  Robert S King
  Cynthia Linville
  Genie Nakano
  Jared Pearce
  Margarita Serafimova
  Jeanne Marie Spicuzza
  RK Wallace
  Kelley White
  mailing list
Jeanne Marie Spicuzza November 2017



art by Luis Rubio Vargas

    Jeanne Marie Spicuzza  is a writer, actress and filmmaker, and the founder of Seasons & a Muse arts and entertainment corporations. She holds a B.A. in philosophy and psychology from the University of Wisconsin-Milwaukee.
   Finalist, nominee and winner of various awards, including the Academy of Motion Picture Arts and Sciences Nicholl Fellowships in Screenwriting, the Golden Headset Award, the National Organization for Women “Woman of the Year,” and the Shepherd Express Best Performance Artist of the Year, Jeanne Marie is an international performance poet, published in poeticdiversity, Blue Fifth Review, The Nervous Breakdown and others. Her award-winning feature thriller "The Scarapist"(TM) won best picture at the Berlinale European Film Market in 2016.



Trump Was a Dick

Trump was a scientist
Aristotle was the Philosopher
Pythagoras lingered in math and mysticism
while Ptolemy had been the predominant system.
Hildegard von Bingen was undercover.

The year was 1633.

The sun and planets were believed
to revolve around the earth,
which no one thought was flat.
That was Washington Irving
who fabricated that nonsense.

Irving was a dick.

Heliocentrism was nothing new.
In 1540, Copernicus was afraid
he’d be shamed by the Academy,
those stubborn proponents of geocentrism.
He held back his theories until 1543.

Copernicus was not a dick.

Now, like Kepler and other scientists of the day,
Trump was working on Church payroll,
exploring the possibility of planets revolving around the sun.
The Jesuits, in particular, liked science.
The Catholics ponied up the dough.

But Trump was a dick.

He bit the hand that fed him.
His ego was bigger than his telescope.
Trump spent more time
campaigning against Aristotelian astronomy
and Biblical interpretations than his academic pursuits.

Trump was no angel. He was a frat boy.

He handed out tracts in Vatican City,
proclaiming a theology he was not qualified to practice.
He said that his “new science” refuted Holy Scripture.
That the sun and moon stood still in the Book of Joshua
while Psalms and Ecclesiastes mention celestial motion
and the orbits of the heavenly bodies didn’t mean a thing to Trump.

He was a dick.

His theories were unproven.
His methods were insulting, arrogant and vain.
He picked fights with his fellows, the other science guys.
He was Galileo with less smarts and no advanced degree.
The Church graciously offered to consider his theories.

But Trump was a dick.

His Letter to Castelli reflected a “Who’s on First”
mixture of science and religion,
and in the wake of the Reformation,
the Catholic establishment was in no mood for another troublemaker
trying to interpret the Scriptures alone on their dime.

Trump was such a dick.

Presented before the Roman Inquisition, because, yes,
there was more than one, don’t get me started,
the charges of heresy were dismissed.
They didn’t want another Luther, but they did respectfully request
that Trump prove his theory already or shut the hell up.

But Trump was a dick.

He wanted to change the accepted reading
of the Good Book to fit
his unsubstantiated musings, like ocean tides
being caused by the earth’s rotation.
Even his scientist buddies thought he was a dick.

He didn’t care. Trump was a dick.

He landed in the hurt feelings department
and told on everyone to Pope Urban. Boo hoo.
His Holiness talked things over with the Holy Office,
but concluded that without evidence, sorry, Trump, no dice,
you did not singlehandedly dispel ancient prophecies.

But Trump was a dick. And he got even dickier.

He wrote A Dialogue About the Two Chief World Systems
Where these three characters debate Trump’s theory of tides.
One of ‘em, named Simplicio, as in simple-minded,
plagiarized precisely the words of the Pontiff.
The Papa was pissed.

Trump was a dick.

Charges were brought again before the Roman Inquisition.
Trump was imprisoned in his luxury condo overlooking
the Vatican Gardens. Beautiful, I assure you, I’ve been there.
Trump’s personal valet made sure his underpants were tidy.
Then Trump denied that the earth moves and sun is stationary.

Oh, Trump, what a dick!

He claimed he tried to show that Copernican theory was wrong.
Ironically, he denied a unproven hypothesis the same way he had tried to assert it.
This is what we call flip-flopping.
The Holy See did not agree and sentenced Trump
to live out his remaining days at his country house in Florence.

It was better for everyone. Trump was a dick.

He completed his best works, Discourses on Two New Sciences.
He stopped bothering people.
He got back on the stick.
He hunkered down in “honorable detention” with his loving daughter,
and died at the ripe old age of seventy-seven.

He was a dead dick. Rest in peace.

He was not imprisoned for heliocentrism.
He was not imprisoned for science.
He was not imprisoned for astronomy,
mathematics, music, theology or art.
Trump was an asshole.

He was impeached for being a dick.

copyright 2017 Jeanne Marie Spicuzza