Orange Orangutang
Stood up and started pounding the table
Said there were good people the ones who believed in him
and there were bad people the ones who doubted him and those who believed
Said that there was true and false
true was what he needed to say to get him and his fans what they they thought they right then wanted
false was what people who disagreed with him said
Said there was real and fake
real was whatever made him and those sucking his swollen desperately-certain pride feel good about themselves
fake was whatever made him and his followers seem mistaken, misplaced, or otherwise other than infinite, ever-expanding TRUE GOODS

Orange Orangutang
always winning, can’t lose
heroically spinning, now woozy
What shall we do?
I know a small capuchin that sustains adamant — almost plausible — pirouettes
in support of the pounding of the orangutang, so orange and certain
I know an accordion-full of dancing squirrel monkeys, gibbons, and even a few silverbacks willing to agree with the orange one that “true” is “us” and “false” is “them” and “real” is “us winning” and “false” is “them winning”.
I know evil since I can remember
I feel it on my skin
In my face
Shoved over and down
What would I do?
Why isn’t the truth enough here and now?
How evil have you become?
And why are proud of doing what is wrong?