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)
Two brothers, Darren and Steve
Living fifty five years, with a loving
Dad and Mum, at their home which
Seems more than just a building to
Them, Dad and Mum have both passed
On, rules state the building can only be
Given into the same familiy once.' Which
Happened when their Dad died first I would reason as two become one.' The
Same name.' How could it be.? The landlord havebury is seeking to evict them
Steve however has special needs.' Darren
Thinks it will destroy him' As you know I am trying to help the Mitchell familiy near
Southhampton England on my blog, of
Which i have only one.' But seeing these
Brothers and i can only think a hard hearted descision by a judge at law to allow them to be removed, i ask for a change of decsision by Havebury in this
Case..Have a heart Havebury, let them be.'
I act like I'm sleeping
My father shouts,
And I hear my mother's weeping.
Mama shouts at Daddy loudly,
I watch through a pinhole sadly.
They care for me like a treasure,
But I don't know why they still haven't changed.
Sometimes my mother locks the doors,
While my father loudly knocks on them.
With an innocent face,
I saw them in tears.
Those incidents are still
In my heart like scars.
Sometimes I feel desperate,
But I have a little brother.
So I try to make him feel better.
The pain in my heart is so heavy,
But I don't know how to say it boldly.
I tell him stories and make him sleepy.
I watched the stars to hide my scars,
Because he doesn't need to carry those scars.
my English Cream retriever trots through his pool
he likes to saturate his paws and his belly
the water is green and gross
If I refresh it, he digs dirt and jumps back in
muddying it like a cow’s farm pond
my older dog walks back and forth
investigating his brother from another mother
Not about to get in, he is obviously not a retriever
It’s PTS and drop the D
Don’t put your labels on me
No clinical this or neuro that
We hide it well neath a boonie hat
Our tears are shed in lonely grief
Providing little or no relief
Our stories are kept all to ourselves
Better locked tight on memory shelves
Then one day our race fully run
We’ll join lost brothers neath a different sun
Having given our blood, our life, our all
Answering that final bugle call
You hate me for my color.
You hate me for our differences.
You hate me for my successes.
You call me names.
You call me useless.
You call me an outsider.
You marked me as invisible.
You made me your scapegoat.
You expressed your hatred, and
Excluded me from your world,
Allowing you to define
Who was welcome into your group.
Do you feel united?
Are you at peace?
That is, until the next tension rises and
A new scapegoat needs to be found.
The Jazz poem brothers, so hip and so way cool,
With their smooth jazz talk, they never play the street fool/
They snap their fingers and dance to the bass conga beat/
Their rhythm and rhyme are hip in time/man, they are kicking the verse and breaking it down/
They paint a mind collage with each word they say, Man, it just lays me out / What can I say/
Taking us on a word poem journey, in their special soul jazz spoken word way/
Get down to their word flow/ a slaughterhouse of jazz words/poetry from the jazz edge/let's go/
The brothers transport us to a place where the bebop Buddha shows his face/
Yo listen up tight, to what their jazz word orchestra has to say/
Let their words guide you to the jazz planet in the Milky Way/
The Jazz poem brothers know how to groove high/to the spoken word poetry/ in the simmering jazz Zen sky/
Their poetry word jazz will lift you/Man, it's a swingin' affair/ Miles, Trane, and Diz/ horn blowing word jazz and a gin fizz/The jazz poem brothers/in search of the new word vibe/Tossing a snow storm of words into the crowd as they wave by by/
Currently the security profit programs is hesitant
Sista bad ways the masters degree premonition holder has eliquented us inside of the never growing fortress of people's passed economic struggles as mimes
Yet the obstructioni zing doth not permit a permit
Ye of vittles portion lacks the fortitude of good days in labor
Between Camarillo livibility lengths and Newbury Park rotations as the same
None may improvith stations whilst sista bad feelings goes into debt full idea administration worry
It was autumn
Before the round
Something shivered
Tools wasn't full
Vans change, tools out strange the work
All damseled
In respite
Shane apprehension grovel
Lost beside his print
Finding his father's name
April, too new city managers
Yorks and shires bereaved
I wasn't your only father's rent
The war counted on better rays
Rates add fits
In byes gondolas say
To write wrongs
Haven't worried sensibly
The round became my leaving board
A pond as his mother's springs
She sheltered little in life
Deathly burden to me
Manhattan Surrender my moons light
Bugs Bunny
was New York smartass funny:
he showed no fondness for parrots,
but was well-disposed towards carrots.
BROTHERS
I wasn’t even two years old
But I knew a baby’s sound
So I climbed up on my old crib
And was amazed by who I found
At once I felt drawn to u
And suddenly I
had my first friend
Then and there a bond was formed
That no one could even bend
Our lives as brothers began that day
It was filled with fights and fun
Many times it was a race for victory
Then we told Mom who had won
Mom always dressed us the same
But little did we both know
Those threads of clothing were matched with love
And together through life we’d go
That was the plan for our future
But eventually we came to know
God would send his angels for me
And to heaven I would have to go
I never wanted to leave you
U were the best friend I ever had
Don’t fill your days with sorrow and wipe away the sad
One day you will join me in heaven
A journey we both would bear
I will tell how much I’ve missed you
And that I just beat you there
By
Karen Powell
Mama
Something it out there on that tree
And that little critter is watching me
He had his binoculars up in the air
And so did the creature, to be fair
Two watchers having fun watching each other
Brothers from another mother
The bird was speaking in his headset
He’s not eaten his supper yet
Why do you people watch every day?
You are a bird, it is not our way!
This was from his wife, Cardinal Clementine
She thought his people watching was out of line
two brothers hailed from the old country
from Donnybrook
one more like an engineer
the other like a cook
they specialized in pancakes
the best, you can't deny
Sean made them taste like heaven
Finn stacked them high
supplies came from all around
in wagons and in trucks
Sean whipped up the batter
and ol' Finn he constructs
with eggs from every chicken
and milk from every cow
maple syrup miracles
from the oats that they did grow
when these flapjack masters
grew old and had to die
they made a stack of hotcakes
and they climbed it to the sky
kids, each time you eat griddle cakes
you should be like me
stack 'em high
and think of Sean and Finn McGee
Ha ha..I laugh.' For you will find 'you will be outmatched.)
By just the Aussies; mind.' Hoody and Topher Antic and
Rennick, Larter, Bos,i Hobart, Brighthope Nickolic its systemic.' Clair
Woodly and Iyah.' Yes the pressure builds higher.' Also I
Am against you.' In truth you'l become a no-show Max Igan
Another one having a go.' Even the white rabbit is poking fun..' Ian Pilmer is having none.' Johnny Stapleton either none.' of your lying.' Soon
The whole world 'will awaken' and your power will be taken'
You are a cowardly bully.' Big bad and bulky.' Big brother
You are fading.' You spawn of dark pagans, society is
Breaking; now all your instigating.' Evil will be turned back on to you.' This is inevitable, and its so true.'
Sarah, are you my friend, my best friend ever?
That’s a hard question;
my mom said that my brother should be my best friend
I have to look after him
Where is he?
Over there, the one with jello in his hair
I have a brother
Where is he?
Oh, he’s in my mommy’s tummy.
She ATE him!?
Two brothers hailed from the old country, from Donnybrook -
one more like an engineer, the other like a cook.
They specialized in pancakes - the best, you can't deny.
Sean made them taste like heaven, and Finn stacked them high.
Supplies came from all around, in wagons and in trucks.
Sean whipped up the batter, and ol' Finn he constructs,
with eggs from every chicken and milk from every cow,
maple syrup miracles from the oats that they did grow.
When these flapjack masters grew old and had to die,
they made a stack of hotcakes and they climbed it to the sky.
Kids, each time you eat griddle cakes, you should be like me,
stack 'em high and think of Sean and Finn McGee.
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