It's quite obvious now:
"The they" are preparing for life deep underground.
Placing final ribbons around subterranean cities.
Stockpiling sustenance
Water being siphoned to top off cisterns and privies.
The Amazon, Tigris, and Euphrates.
Superior, Michigan, and Erie are all being drained.
The surface people will be left scrambling for crumbs
in the phlegm of nuclear holocaust.
They'll devolve into hunter-gatherer clans.
To become a twisted reality show for subterraneans.
"The They" who trafficked us and ate our babies
will make a game of it, placing bets at our expense...
on who will perish -who'll be left.
Then, when the earth is somewhat cleansed.
"The They" will emerge to barter with metal from our teeth
pin our cross/bones to their puffy pigeon chests
The rest will serve as sex slaves, servants, and jesters
in the post-apocalyptic bed, "the they" have knowingly made.
Heirloom is kept as family’s treasure
Legacy of cultural values’ worth
Defying heritage-loss amidst dearth
Yon third generation-wealth’s exposure.
Transcending all modernization-trends
While transformed for functional need
Heirloom’s style exudes our forefathers’ creed
Expressing close ties among clans and friends.
Grateful to have worn such heirloom with pride
I praise the Lord* for my lineage that’s blest
Around home’s warmth and parental care’s zest
Cherishing to stay in the victor’s side.
Winning “Best Costume” for this heirloom’s seal
My heart does soar toward triumphant flight
Then photo displays thanksgiving delight
Revealing gracious patriotism zeal.
*Psalm 34:1 I will bless the Lord at all times: his praise shall continually be in my mouth.
June 17, 2026
10th place, "THE MARVELOUS THINGAMAJIG" Poetry Writing Contest
Sponsored by Daniel Henry Rodgers; judged on 7/2/2026
The love that knows no boundary set by clan;
The clans that know no love except for war;
The flower that dares to bloom, but never can;
This then the story Shakespeare told, in core.
And what the nature of a petty feud?
Where pride replaces peaceful, prosperous life;
Where little things as mountains are construed,
And things far greater die within its strife.
How might a lesser quill have writ the tale?
One family good, the other dripping ill;
The timeless lie, the righteous must prevail;
And happiness the final act to fill.
But not these things, you had much more to say:
And that is why we think of you today.
Humankind
In an article, the question was what is the meaning of life? Many answers were about personal fulfillment and what made a person happy, but no one could answer that question. This I think is because we in the West are not religious, we do not believe in a God we are alone and that is scary and has an echo of colossal loneliness and the universe is empty
Night and day, light and dark, the fundament of
In all religions, perhaps the question of the meaning of life was asked and not answered
How the man-animal came into being is academic
But it was an animal that could think and become a human-dominating the living world
We can assume they were not friendly and had clans going around killing each other as we do today
The meaning of life is this, with a bit of love thrown for the sake of procreation, that it has no meaning, we live and die and are dead forever
Black/white
Which is might?
What’s to fight?
No color less
or more right!
Politics!~ clans of self-serving,
manipulative Pricks --
Lunatics!~ our woke
Generation – point it out
to me…Please!~
show me the missed
good, in ego-bloated, soulless,
delusional
Hollywood!
The Democrat party
exposed, snobbish -- upturned
nose -- sipping from Satan’s
rancid cup -- lurid piss,
moral-less drink --
ignoring the wallow of their
own~ Sulphuryl, ruthless stink.
I: ? Resolve
kids all playing ball
old friends laughing of old times
couples holding hands
a lone man sits wandering
face dried of tears dons a smile
II: ? Resolve
white black gray gloaming
sepulchral downpour stormy
amorphous rainbow
hospitals overflowing
clans gangs groups leagues board news crew
III: ? Resolve
days they brought the guns
feeds the rich buries the poor
days they brought roses
scriptures says rumors of war
news media says the same
True love can transcend
Elbows, clans, ages and race
Case who you spend.
Cicada Dreaming was told to Roland Robinson in 1965 by Julia Charles of the Yoocum Yoocum clans from the area around Wollumbin in the headwaters of the Tweed River, Northern NSW and is used with permission.
Tiny Dreamtime children, imprisoned in the earth,
pierce the little tree roots to sip sap beneath the dirt.
For seven years, cicada grubs, as they scratch and dig,
keep getting so much bigger that they pop off their skins.
The final time they’re off and up: up a fence, up a trunk, up a shed.
Kids collect the shells they leave, stuck with claws on curling feet.
Buzz, buzz, buzz: cicada wings brush past my nose.
Their raucous chorus is a non-stop drone.
A thousand bodies cling on sticks and twigs and leaves.
Above my ringing ears their yellow wee rains down me.
Every year they deafen us. The noise is really bad -
crying for their mothers, screaming for their dads.
But, this year there are - none.
I’m surprised that I feel sad.
Where have the mad things gone?
Yellow Mondays, Green Grocers,
Black Princes, Cherry Noses -
Much as they annoy me,
I hope that they’ll be back.
Noah the prophet, was sent by God, to those who did not believe, he lived and preached a thousand years, but they still did not conceive. He begged and urged the pagan clans, but God had other plans. He built the ark at Gods command, to sail a mighty sea, they mocked and laughed when they saw the craft, but their doom did not foresee.
Moses the prophet stood tall and strong, and was sent to the Israelites. He came along when times were rough, and people hoped for light. With staff in hand he made a stand, where Pharaoh controlled the land. He was forced and banned from saving his clans, but God had other plans. They reached the sea when they tried to flee, and with Moses began to plea. But with Gods will, they crossed the sea, and Pharaoh ceased to be.
With bloodshed and crime, the beast shall climb, over the gates of hell. In acts of evil he drives his needles into peoples hearts and minds. On weaker minds he lives and thrives, with all the pleasure and joy. Since the beginning of time, while in his prime, he sought the destruction of man. In the pits of hell his kind shall dwell, because God is in control.
Saleh Ben Saleh
They met in October, Mama and Papa Bear.
We were young, in love, we had no care!
From two dissenting clans, but we did dare….
Dancing in the leaves, reflected Mama Bear.
My clan has never let me back in their Papa said.
He smiled at his cubs and shook his furry head.
Let’s go see them, the twins said to each other.
Reuniting him as soon as they yelled “hello grandmother!”
Scotland, My Home
Scotland, my home, where I was born and bred
Where the saltire flies high above my head
Where the bagpipes sound and the kilts are worn
Where the haggis tastes and the whisky warms
Scotland, my home, where the history runs deep
Where the brave and the bold their freedom did keep
Where the clans and the kings their stories did weave
Where the legends and the lore their magic did leave
Scotland, my home, where the culture thrives
Where the poetry and the music their spirit revives
Where the humour and the wit their charm displays
Where the friendship and the kindness their heart conveys
Scotland, my home, where the beauty shines
Where the mountains and the valleys their splendour define
Where the lakes and the islands their serenity show
Where the flowers and the wildlife their colours glow
Scotland, my home, where I belong and love
Ye are the treasure of my life, and the gift from above
I cherish thee more than words can say, and I'll always be loyal to thee
Scotland, my home, ye are the best of me
as the bahotalusheke are doing incantations,
other bavila clans are killing some animals.
John 17:4 ,
Have you read it before?
He had work to do here on earth,
He knew it since His birth.
“I have brought you glory “
Let me tell you the story,
How Jesus became man
And lived amongst evil clans.
He was without sin,
Because of this, they hated Him.
He lived His life by the Word
Those around would have seen and heard.
He came as a humble servant,
His message was truthful and urgent.
He is the long awaited King,
A message of salvation He brings.
The Kingdom of God is at hand,
Not all will see something so grand.
Repent and turn to the Lord,
You will become brand new and restored.
So as you read John 17:4
Remember Jesus knew before,
What God had in store.
He willing laid down His life for you and me,
Accept his truth in your heart and you will see.
The glory that was meant to be.
Rev. Catherine Cassell
Across the city the emperor called
For recruits to join the legions
Travel to new and strange lands
And conquer for covetous reasons
As sun beat down they trained their men
To fight for colonisation,
Taking with them skills and knowledge
Introducing urbanisation.
Past mountains, lakes and plains they marched
Battalions stood United
Crossing countries, rivers, sea,
Arriving uninvited.
Invasion, yet they brought with them
Progression, innovation;
Technology since lost in ages dark
Transforming a whole nation.
Roads of stone, heated floors
Domestic sanitation,
Walls dividing tribes and clans
Fuelling aggravation.
Yet Britain’s climate, wet and dour,
It’s warriors and chief,
Sent Rome’s great fighters fleeing home
Struck dumb in disbelief,
That this small nation could be such
A hostile, retched place,
And Rome needed protecting
From the Jutes and Angles race.
So after Constantine’s withdrawal
Britain re-emerged anew,
Rebirthing of a greater nation,
Than the one the romans slew.
Left behind their legacy
Culture, architecture
But no longer an unwitting, oppressed,
Out-posted prefecture.
Tombstones And Cemetery Await Us All, Be Brave
Howl of the blowing winds waywarder than others
In the darkened cave where evil desires wait
Caste us into stiff clans with warriors and brothers
Those of evil wrath, villainy and hands of Fate
Allow us this our fallacies and heedful needs
We of mortal flesh that walk barefoot and so brave
Always comes the bad, the pains and the massive bleeds
Salvation hardly ever comes but mercy saves
We who wait around campfires and hold our heads proud
Ready to fight the wicked world and thank our God
Do not think evil demons in their long black shrouds
Can meet anything from us except our iron rods
We the brave that face the hungry snarl of cracking
With gritting teeth and our courage never lacking.
Robert J. Lindley, Sonnet
April 9th , 1972
Age 18
Note: Or so spoke the brave son of Beowolf the Viking warrior.,
as the clan celebrated the death of its enemies after the great battle.
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