Peace deals seem to give Trump a good-bye kiss--
To self-proclaimed messiah of world peace
Who thinks he’s King Canute
Who held waves, made them mute,
Peace, no real estate deal,
Nor Trump, one-for-all pill,
A shot in dark is more likely to miss.
_____________________________
Happenings | 13.12.2025 | kiss, humour, peace, political, USA, limerick
Note: Trump’s peace deals that come apart seem to suffer from a Humpty-Dumpty Syndrome. And he does not know how to put Humpty-Dumpty back together. Russia-Ukraine peace deal is nowhere. Thailand and Cambodia are fighting back again. So are Congo and Rwanda, whilst Gaza peace plan seems in limbo. And the only one that works is Indo-Pak that Trump has nothing to do with! Yet, the Nobel Peace Prize, ah what a lollypop!
In Cambodia some diners eat a delicacy that does not entice me.
What could that be? Yes, I have to tell you, for why keep it to myself?
Here, sweetie, try some fried tarantula; do you want two or three?
Um…no thanks, please put it back, way up high on the top shelf.
Cambodia
where they blame
everyone else
Now, let assume that the sacred human body is the world
and here is Nigeria, this is America, what is Cameroon?,
where is Cambodia?, how is China?, who are you?,
what is South Africa?, hi Niger?, and may be a universe
of whichever tis or twas or glee?.
You see quo era demonstratum,
you see more than globalization and brotherhood,
you see more, more, more fresh behold and behold
and behold?
or how dear whoever just may strike this sort of love
even it were yesternight or yesterday.
The calm, composed Coconut Beach of Cambodia
Or the Galápagos Islands of sublime sereneness
Boats of quietude sail through the seas of Utopia.
Stream, brook, sunrise, sunset—nature's flowery floridness
The breathing of butterflies and the blooming of blossoms
Confessions of Cherubic Caves and Covenants of Clouds
Desert islands and deserted monumental chasms
Fancies of farms, fields, forests, fishes, flocking feathered fowls
Monasteries and museums in meditation moods
Readings of reeds, restings of reptiles, river reflections
Slow snake-skates, snowfalls, stargazing space-spa solitudes
Turtles and tortoises, all underwater attractions.
Sacrosanct silent scenes share stories splendid and sublime.
Like millions of melodies, within soul cells they always chime.
Angkor Wat
infamous temple complex in Cambodia
largest religious structure known on earth
spreads two hundred and forty-eight square miles
there are seventy-two temples inside this complex
This Hindu temple was dedicated to their god Vishu
designed to represent Mt Meru, home of the devas in mythology
King Jayavarman VII changed the temple to Buddism
after Vishu had failed him
Some believe Angkor Wat was constructed in one night
by our divine architect
Twelve Months Calendar
January
January Dawning
Polar vortex abounding
Winter continues
February
February ends
With war breaking out
Invasion of Ukraine
March
March madness continues
The war intensifies
COVID fears fading
April
April fears intensify
The taxman cometh for us
Deadly Yellow Dust
May
May ends with her birthday
Preparing to travel again
Ready to see the world
June
Time to go back home
See my homeland again
Berkeley beckoning me
July
This year I want to go
To Boston and check it out
Just because I have not been there
August
Hope to spend August
In Oregon and Northern California
Before the fire season burns it up
September
September memories
40 years ago I met her
When she walked out of my dreams
October
Always feel a bit pensive
During my birthday month
Want to spend it in Paris
November
November wants to return
To Korea for a while
Avoiding the US. election madness
December
Hope to spend the year-end
In Thailand, Vietnam
Cambodia, Laos for the winter
…Cambodia, Rwanda, Syria…
Wars never cease
on the earth. Peace is pulverized.
Each battle drags children into a
vortex of anguish
in the front line or at home. They
lose their butterflies among bombs
and bullets.
Pure rapture curls like mango peel
in tension. Tender lives tarnish.
Lullabies are
lost in the death rattle. Scattered
young blood stains history. The
voice from beneath
the headstone is not an auditory
hallucination, but a doleful echo
from a little soul.
The orphans get food in the refugee
camp, but where will they seek their
lost mom and dad?
Childhood charms are mutilated.
They’re prisoners of trauma. A
platoon of terror marches
through their mental corridors.
First published in "The Humans in the Wild" anthology by Swallow Publishing, US.
I will have fried tarantula if you please.
Extra flour and lots of seasoned grease.
You don’t have any?
That’s okay, Minnie.
Cambodia has dishes like these.
the chambers of Auschwitz are never far away
ashes do not disperse genocide that easily
cracked skulls in Rwanda don’t break away
from bone master’s lost conscience
agent orange is not yet whiter than white
Saigon holds more memories than a musical
killing fields in Cambodia famine in the Yemen
should speak a clear message to what true hardship is
all I have to do is wear a mask and wait for an injection
though there is no vaccination yet for stupidity
in the face of what is a minor incursion of freedom
compared to slaughter and crusades for a false crown
Currencies
temples grace the cambodian sky
residents on a street talk to their gods
rice sold in the marketplace
a road along a single river
residents on a street talk to their gods
conversations streaming the air
a road along a single river
currents of lives ever-flow
conversations streaming the air
histories to always bear
currents of lives ever-flow
coins passed hand-to-hand
histories to always bear
stories of an ancient land
coins passed hand-to-hand
temples grace the cambodian sky
The city- Battenberg, Cambodia
When Little Miss Muffet
first visited buffets,
she’d choose simple entrees,
cottage cheese
Until one day in line
a grand gourmand spied her.
He advised some cider
and egg foo young.
Now I'm the frightened one;
ev'ry night of the week
new gourmet food they seek.
They're off the grid.
Heard they ran away to
far-off Cambodia
where fried tarantula
are tasty treats.
monkey
playful friend
from Viet Nam
sent by loving soldier
60's
CHRISTMAS IN THE PLAIN OF REEDS
Three on isolated holiday;
Cambodia on the horizon.
The reeds sway in the wind,
rippling like drifting snow,
their touch a ringing bell.
So close to the Border,
so far from Christmas,
so far from home.
.
Genocide
Happens more often than
we would like to think
The Holocaust, Rwanda, Cambodia
and the Armenian holocaust
to mention a few
Why can't we get along?
I realize that even as I write
these words
bombs are falling on civilians
and children
"When will they ever learn"
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