Time to get the US out of the UN
And the UN thus out of US.
It’s nothing new,
It’s the same old cry
None Dare Call It Conspiracy
But I don’t know why.
The gates are now open
And the barbarians within
We wait, watch and wonder
When the killing will begin.
It’s the same old story
The same tired old tale
Civilizations may rise
But eventually all fail.
(9/7/26)
Who would have thought it would come to this
The Big Apple, home of Wall Street
The Yankees, Broadway and Central Park
Would one day elect a Marxist Muslim mayor?!
Groucho must be rolling in his grave
As Harpo, well, plays his harp in pain.
I’ve been to The City, seen the World’s Fair
Ridden the subway, wandered all over there,
But now it’s somehow different
A new world in a new world order
It’s like the UN took over the town
Opened all its doorways to tear it all down.
Mayor Mamdani, may not last for long
May not even be legit if all votes were known,
But he will certainly be remembered
For polarizing his home,
And driving small minority owned businesses
Into the ground.
What comes next we want to know?
Maybe a Trump or something
Less conventional, more traditional,
Like an apple pie baking baseball playing
Yankee doodle dandy whistling mom.
Whatever it is I’m rootin’ for you NYC
Rootin’ and cheerin' for your comeback run.
(9/7/26)
Inside too hot,
Outside too cold,
Temperatures on the rise,
Yet in the blink of an eye,
High becomes low,
And our noses give off a red glow.
And our toes no longer good to go.
Yet temperatures among us still rising,
With those who find the cold embracing,
Threatening an uprising,
If those who are for turning up the inside heating,
Don't start compromising.
No wonder bosses turn to drinking,
With employees too cold or too hot to be working.
Simply absurd
Heard the news
Snotty residents
On pedants pews
Clear precedents
Vice do choose
Drive us potty
In arty farty mews
Latte & biscotti
With dotty views
Party always grotty
Spice will lose
A slutty hotty
Putty in her hand
Seedy queues
For smutty totty
Or bit of botty
Plenty of booze
A nutty hinterland
Hear our boos
Us well manned
Against this ruse
So underhand
With their coups
Good times banned
Westminster eschews
In pubs can't stand
Everyone poo poos
That's what's planned
If papers peruse
Chaos canned
Soho's Blues
Glaring blues on night window,
Flute and piano bearing glow,
Crickets chirp a music slow,
Outside nocturne flow.
rain drops like tear drops
gather on windows pane
isolation blues
Sitting on brown log in the green woods
Softly humming favorite melody
Serenading the moon as an owl would
Songs of lavender love and charity
Satin wind blowing blues away far
Stars twinkle in wrinkle of stratosphere
Seasonal hope wish upon stars so clear
Again a bad case of the blues
Feeling low and depressed
So many unresovled issues
My emotional state not at best
Trying to forget my don'ts and do's
But thoughts and feelings manifest
Trying l am to mind my p's and q's
Just anything to put my mind at rest
Sorry that l am someone whos
Always it seems so damm strested
Though not something l choose
But hay think you have guessed
Excerts from poem a state of confusion 1997
Written 2020
When out last week
a-looking around
heard the the boys in the band
and their sound
rocking out all right
a-pleasing the crowd
with strings and keys
playing so loud
while out that night
a-doing the town
saw the boys in the band
getting down
hands were a-clapping
knees a-slapping
toes a-tapping
flip-flops a-flapping
in time to the music
of the Beach Bar groove
where at five bucks a beer
I had nothing left to lose
nothing there but the Beach Bar blues
Getting through ©2016 js
You’re rocking and rolling
Getting through the night
Rocking and rolling holding on tight
Sometimes you’re wrong
But mostly right
The east wind is blowing
On your side
You don’t believe in lonely
You never lost your drive
Picking up the beat
Helps you see the light
you gave away the blues
learned to live free
your not to old
to let it all be
the world will come to you
a revised history
Sometimes your wrong
But mostly right , don’t give
Up the fight
Don’t give up the fight
Figure of Eight got me thinking
It's infinity on its side!
Eight days a week, I rode till dawn.
Slipping behind eight ball's shadow.
On Cloud Eight, with just one to come.
While strumming eight-note blues on drums;
I figured eight had found me out~
Swirling around its loopty-loops.
I let the summer heat buy my silence, isn't it just the birthday blues, replaying that last time I saw you
Another year has gone and the hardest day is here to sit with me again
In my hands, on my chest, rests the weight of your absence
The emptiness in my arms where I held you last..
I give each thought a name and
try to give this grief a place to live outside of myself
I argue with the time, begging it to face me but
3 years feels like an eternity
night sky has the blues
her tears fall as onyx rain
stars blind shine in vain
When My feet taps to the beat I know that I can be free.
The music makes me rock, as I suddenly forget about the clock
Tik
Tik
Tik
Goes the stress of time, but
Tap
Tap Tap
goes the rythim of my feet, I sing, I rock
Because its "Never to late" says Glenn
Now I know that it will never matter again. My past, present, and future are all a blur to the emblem of the music. It takes over me as I sway.
I know my love will never fray as I "stargaze" as the sound causes a craz in my mind.
It takes me over and makes me feel, for once in my life I feel!
I rock to the funky guitar and heavy drums.
Knowing never again will I find a sound quite like these hums.
The crowd in my mind gathers by my ears to listen to the sound of my oh so sweet tears.
I love music I cry on the daily, but my friends in my ears just think im crazy.
Ill rock all day listening to Glenn Hughes because with his sound...
I'll NEVER feel the blues.
MY OWN KIND OF BLUES CAME IN THE EVENING NEWS
SADDESS FILLS MY SOUL FOR NO REASON I'M TOLD
QUIET NOW WIPE THOSE TEARS AS MY EYES CLEARS
THE WETNESS POURS MORE AND MORE ON THIS FLOOR
OF GRIEF BENEATH ME I WEEP SO PROFOUNDLY
AS LAUGHTER COVERS THE SUN TASTING THE WARM
SUBLE AIR NO ONE WILLING TO SHARE IT
FOR I CAN NOT BREATH FOR SUCH A PAIN
I LIE HEAR 80 YEARS MY SENIOR AS I DIE TODAY
FROM A HORRID DEATH OF LOVING TOO MUCH
AND NOW THAT THE FUNERAL IS THROUGH
IT'S RIGHT IN MY FACE HE DON'T LOVE YOU
SUCH A SILLY LITTLE THING HERE LOOKING AT ME
WAITING AND WANDERING HOW GREEDY IS SHE
FOR I TAKE NOTHING AND INHERIT YOUR PAIN
I SWALLOW THE CRIES HIDDEN DOWN YOUR SPINE
AS I CRY FOR US BOTH AS I REAP WHAT'S SEWN
HERE IN THE DEBTS OF PITY HOW CAN I LIVE
IN SUCH AN EMPTY CITY I WHERE OLD SHOES USED
JUST SITTING HERE WEEPING WITH THE BLUES
WRITTEN BY YOLANDA JOY NICHOLSEN 5-20-2004
2610 PROVIDENCE STREET FORT MYERS FLORIDA
COPING WITH TRAUMATIC BRAIN INJURY
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