The coal mine of drainstream life.
Is predating the Canary in journalistic
Terms' under a banking strike.' De-banked
As per the central plank, of an atrack
Now i'm not political' yet i see free speech
As most critical.' Its abhorrent to so be'
And quite un-holy, as much, as is the vatican] see.' This cabalistic attack, a stab
In freedoms back, here my only agenda
Is that coherent reporting be not constrained by otherwise profligate spenders, wake up be aware, we need
Free speech forever and always to be there.' its jyst so splendid and i for
One hold it very dear.!
BLUE COLLAR MAN
Just a man of a blue collar clan,
I eat, I breathe, I'll die.
In time my life will be forgotten
like clouds drift cross the sky.
Twas a time when reason was rhyme,
when souls could not be sold.
No bad intent, what's said was meant,
one's self was self controlled.
As some grow, they begin to know
the nature of mankind.
A sneak attack, a knife in the back,
or just get left behind.
Tis foolish youth who never learns
to play deceptive games,
to see the forrest not the trees,
more pitty or more shame?
Bury deep their innocence,
let greed and lust prevail.
A thoughtful heart, horse after cart,
a formula to fail.
To be the one, one must become,
to succeed at any cost,
it takes it's toll, the price is high
to where their soul is lost.
One mans fail, another's success.
Each to their own purview.
It matters most to burdened host.
Karma is life's milieux.
The sated soul does not compete
within their own dark side.
Never to gain through others' pain,
taking lifes tides in stride.
A blue collar man content in my clan,
I have no life regrets.
A simple life, lived well, head high.
I've love and love begets.
What would you choose to do if out for fun?
You'd read a hundred pages of ‘Tom Sawyer?
Eat lentil soup, and hug an old sequoia?
She’s seventy next year, and she’s no nun –
the Jackson number five is called La Toya.
Perhaps you’d like to serve on a destroyer?
Attack a kindergarten with a gun?
Compete at auction, to secure a Goya?
Or are you, by your nature, an annoyer?
Trump Tower bound, to desecrate the foyer?
(Have patience, Gentle Reader: almost done!)
Beware the bear-trap, verbal hurdle, pun.
It’s not pronounced ‘La Jolla’, it’s ‘La Hoya’:
Just take my word. Just trust me. I’m a lawyer.
Justice alert
An Old Lady with strong Faith
Knows how to carry to great length
Didn’t have to spin to turn into Wonder Woman
Wonder Woman Grandma carried every day
A Mugger thought an Old Lady being an easy prey
He Forget to kneel and pray
The Mugger lurked and looked for an opportunity
It turned out to be a defeated reality
He attacked and Wonder Woman Grandma went into action just like that
She knocked him down
The Mugger went to the ground
He tried to attack a second time
Failed again and again
He didn’t know that Wonder Woman Grandma had Indian tribe blood origin
Full of courage, strength and keenness
The Mugger ran like a punk
Wonder Woman Grandma proved don’t under estimate an Old Lady
She packed more than just age
The punk was defeated full of rage
He got what he deserved because he didn’t behave
Forced to retreat
Got agony of defeat
The Wonder Woman Grandma is a true story
It’s my actual Grandma
A woman of wisdom
Living in God’s kingdom
High in the sky with my Grandpa
Wonder Woman Grandma
Strength in character
Standing for all Grandma’s all over the world
Hero
Victor story
Rewarded in Glory.
Mirror, mirror, on the wall,
Damn, my reflection enthralls them all.
No Medusa's gaze, no serpent's hiss,
My presence alone, sheer, potent bliss.
No need for coils or stony stare,
My impact's etched in the very air.
A kiss of stone? How quaint, how mild,
My very being drives mortals wild.
I am fly, a dazzling dream,
My walk, my talk, an astral gleam.
Each mirror aches with envy's sting,
To capture the aura that my essence brings.
I blaze into the room, a sunlit tide,
Where shadows cower and darkness hide.
Each step a vibrant, dazzling show, Bewitching, blinding, watch them glow.
They shield their eyes, the onlooker's frail,
Against the brilliance of my radiant trail.
Wear shades, they must, to bear the sight,
My shine's a power, intense and bright.
A health warning glitters, sharp and clear,
Heatstroke, heart attack, a looming fear.
Some may just stroke out, overwhelmed,
By the potent magic I've compelled.
My shine isn't for all ages!
Webs of a certain color
The wheels of dancing
Silk under the stark stars
Love unwitting
Hatred spinning
Filling the night with choices
A black rustle of her mind
Challenging the corners
Where pets play and music sifts
Jovial matters in witting the ring
Towering the shake of debate
Anchoring the blood of soon
The relenting attack a fever still
Touring the measure
Her eyes, opiates
Her bread wrecking
The siren in her well
Love, her lease
Hatred her paw
Among the misunderstanding
With a lot in life tampered,
With as much in it hampered;
For it there’s a recorder,
For in life, here, there’s order
2023
And it seems folks would be free,
I mean: crazily so free
As to attack a close tree:
More intake of cannabies,
Guys barking you’d think Rabies,
A man seize by the collar,
Because one saw his dollar;
Refusal to release “sorry”,
Yet one heard the pillory,
Open requests for secret fun
And, there, wanting the act done…
Litigants in a hurry
To with judge favour curry,
U.S. still leading peace talks,
On Earth more unsafe night walks:
Not much in my Nigeria:
Some steps away from The Rear,…
Happily in Africa
More released second-hand car:
A new wish to keep my beard
Matching the New Trends stark weird.
pernicious weeds a metaphor
for wild growth inside
my mind and soul
dandelion mating with brambles
wild cats’ rampant Rubus
grinding teeth and thorns
reason guides the trowel
for emotions to follow
while thistles whistle their good bye
and morning glory says its farewell
metamorphosis as pruning shears
and loppers attack a lopsided view
of what is and is not
energy about in the Universe
and sometimes it passes through me
elates where doom had resided
ragwort falls by the wayside
groans as it passes out of life
nettles give up their sting
and the compost heap grows
ready to nourish another season
of better days to come
as long as my rake stays in tune
with hard toil and soil
I actually quite like
dirt passing through my fingers
don’t mind callus and blisters
to paint a map on my skin
life can be rugged
but there are lemon trees
in my overgrown patch
and I’m ready to taste
suck and feel
what is on offer
There are men who seem gentle
But provoked just go mental,
In clear danger your mantle,
On your body marks dental,
Your quick end from bites central,
Preferred attack: a wild cat's,
Victims like Forbidden Rats,
We guess: Attitude Problem
They protect like an emblem...
Thrice, I had thought to curse them,
Then, saw that one was Rare Gem.
True! Wonders will never cease
Now, I ignore the disease.
The bumble bee is enjoying the blossoms near the Robin’s nest
She made a nest at the end of a beam on the back of my house
The mother Robin doesn’t mind the bee, or the humming birds
But, the chipmunks, squirrels and I are another story!
She already tried to attack a squirrel that came along nearby
Today, I was at the Humming Bird feeder that is near the nest
She started flying around screaming, I was on guard to be attacked!
She loves her babies that is for sure and I pray they will be alright!
Heidi Sands
5/23/22
The Leader of the gang
Fought his door with a bang,
From the all –metal forcing out a clang
That his impatience duly sang,
Now smiling and choosing to hang,
Every tooth of his a ready fang…
Then, Dave’s rescuing phone rang
To great risk exposing the gang!
Pitted against a metallic door,
Whose forcible opening isn’t sure
Save with dynamites not in noise poor
Or human strength, completely raw
Would the leader now run for it,first
Or the door still attack a bit?
How lovely to spend time
On a hillock overlooking the bay!
The ruddy sun just warms enough,
So I’ll enjoy my perfect day.
The sea is not perfectly calm.
Waves roll towards the beach,
What are they whispering to the sand?
What thoughts I wish I could reach?
There on the other side of the lake shore,
I spy a fascinating pristine vale
White beeches cover most of the land,
Except for a cottage that stands in the dale.
It is the place I want to go
So I take a leisurely walk
Ignoring the restless harbour bars
Avoiding friends who would want to talk.
The air is fresh in the awesome vale,
I watch a hawk attack a sparrow,
But my mind is on the cottage,
As I wend my way though it is narrow.
She must have sensed I was so near,
As she comes out and there we kiss.
I hear the dulcet sounds of mellow tunes
Euphoria reaches its peak, my mind in a mist.
Inside the cottage lavender perfumed,
She brings me the delicacy of an ambrosial repast.
Satiated we rest on a soft sofa
My dearest love reaches its peak at last.
We wave goodbye, one last time, emotion grand and high.
Feeling days ticking down, nary an eye is dry.
Dodge the door, it could attack, a right malicious ride.
Careful of the swing back now, just take it all in stride.
When first you came, we held our breath, for how bad could you be?
It didn’t take us very long, before we all could see.
You stole our breath and innocence, our health, our means, our ends.
And left us isolated from our family and friends.
We thought that you would never go, the visit quite unending.
You wore out every welcome here, we find ourselves defending.
And now we see the end in sight, it fills us all with cheer.
Our spirits rise, we see you out, you vile, vile year.
Goodbye 2020.
I pray to that dead
criminal Jesus - to set
us right - restore us.
We’re a mess - like
spilled salt - remember the
fresh air of freedom?
In dreams I search - there
must be a cure lying
around somewhere..
Eyelid shades
open on chiaroscuro
lit, moody mornings.
I keep my head down
I’m doing my fey best, to
let nothing touch me.
.
.
.
.
** Note: I was raised a Catholic. Jesus wasn't crucified by some accident - he was executed as a criminal - that's just a fact - not an attack on Christianity - I would never attack a religion.. except maybe Scientology... that was a JOKE!! aarrgghhh!
If poetry is art (I rather think it is) then one purpose is to engage and provoke emotion - I confess that the first stanza is meant to engage the reader.. hhhmmm.. maybe too much? I AM a beginner - after all.
VI.
Can’t forget the mainstream media types,
all partisans and proud of it,
the right-wingers see right through their charade,
and rate their word lower than spit.
But the left’s legions of rank and file
still think that what they speak is real,
when they proclaims folks Nazis every day
what as those poor people to feel?
In the lust to attack a president,
they fill the air-waves with their lies,
make the unaware think doom is coming,
when in fact we are flying high.
The dissonance builds up inside these folk,
until the stress burns out their brain;
media leftists, the worst of the worst,
they’re driving these people insane.
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