Inequality underpins the
Existence of current
Slavery.'
Mis-education remains its
Enabler.'
LIB CONVENTION START
PIERRE JUST FALLING APART
CONS LOSING THEIR HEART
Surprisingly the sides we choose
And pretend are for protection
Are designed to be dividing groups
Accepting large deceptions
So remind me please what I should do
Consent to all corrections
Far as I can see no lives improve
Except when on consensus
They try to keep each side aloof
Preventing our Ascension
Them trifling thieves inside their rooms
Assessing our contention
To oblige their need to hide the truth
Or address their dark intentions
Until we line the streets and decide to move
For a quest beyond convention
Spend a billion dollars to get the boss elected
Won't fix one of my problems unless it's cost effective
I haven’t yet watched the Convention
For reasons too boring to mention,
Yet I’ve heard every speech
Was so good, it might reach
All the voters who need intervention.
I will Google and catch up in time;
I’m too tired to stay up when it’s prime.
Though I’m set on my vote,
I still wanted to note
Its importance and do it in rhyme.
Quite a meditation to think
how man evolves, his way of
thinking, a little harmless egg
into a viper...a once proud
Democrat into a
Marxist Snake -- JFK turning
over in his grave.
Racism seems to be a deeper
infection in those that vociferously
oppose it
A contrary
species mankind is -- public servants
who serve self before God and country
Hollywood cheers, they are their
own deity -- Queen of naive hearts
gave away cars for social anointing --
King of bitter hearts, sold
his soul for the delusion of absolute
power --
Royal Flush, the Devil wins.
I want to know who’s going to tell Trump that the job he’s currently seeking might just be one of those black jobs?—Michelle Obama
please don't squander what those before us fought hard for all of their lives
~ he wants you to fear two highly educated black successes whose lives thrives
something wonderfully magical is in the air ~
spreading all across this country we love and share
steppin’ up ~ Kamala a president we can be proud of
~not a villain fear monger for a lesser gov
‘Tis the season for a convention
Fa-la-la-la-la la-la-la-la
Fear and angst and apprehension
Fa-la-la-la-la la-la-la-la
Will the protests turn to riots
Fa-la-la-la-la la-la-la-la
How to keep those loonies quiet
Fa-la-la-la-la la-la-la-la
What if there’s an assassination
Fa-la-la-la-la-la la-la-la
I hope it’s just my imagination
Fa-la-la-la-la la-la-la-la
Maybe it’s something I just ate
Fa-la-la-la-la la-la-la-la
But it sure feels just like ‘68!
Fa-la-la-la-la la-la-la-la
___________________________
DNC = Democratic Party National
Convention, in Chicago this week
'68 = 1968 DNC that erupted into
what the media termed a 'police
riot,' incited by hordes of uncouth,
unkempt hippie and yippie pro-
testors.
Stars shine every time
The moon beams its loving light
The moon smiles aglow
A teardrop lonesome
Without its world of eyes
The weeping crying tearing
In the name of a rose
What's in the name of a rose
Soft petals of confessions
I take time to write
My haikus so that a rose
May bloom in gardens of hearts
Penny Nickle dime
Soup and bread trying to fight
Nickel penny days
I have compassion
For this world eons old and
I have small foot prints
My passion for the rose
Is inexplicable true love
My heart is overwhelmed
Write me a haiku
I can use to brighten my path
Like a song to sing
The annual carousel convention was about to start.
Darcy Diamond was excited, this was close to her heart.
She usually won a top prize for being beautiful or something.
Then she noticed her arch enemy, Carousel Dee Deetle Dumpling.
I thought you said she was ill, she hissed to her cousin Nells.
Nells always entered the singing competition, she had gorgeous bells.
She was Nells replied. I am surprised to see her too.
And look there is her sister, Lemon Lollipop Lou.
Carousel Dee Deetle Dumpling took the prize for most improved.
Nells the Nefarious Nightslinger got the prize for one who grooved.
Everyone got a prize, so it was worth the trip to Missouri.
But a tornado took them all, whirling them up in a fury.
The red Adirondack chair called birds in from the north
Eastern, western and southern birds appeared too.
What is it about this chair? They asked each other.
With tweets and trills they discussed it.
None knew, but the crowd enlarged itself daily.
Pretty soon no one remembered that the chair was there.
It was just a mountain of birds.
A bird mob, birds of a feather,
And birds with nothing else in common at all
A bird convention
The chair was excited.
This had been her plan.
He was the only soothsayer on the plane headed toward Grace.
The day they all got a message that kept them out of this place.
The stewardess asked him are you flying to the psychic convention?
He was not sure now if it was wise, it had once been his intention.
Where are the rest of the empaths and psychics? He asked.
They cancelled their flights this morning. Can you please be masked?
He was a poser and frightened to death now, so he ran off the plane.
Some would have said this was justified, others might call it insane.
The summer daisy convention was in full swing
They were twisting and bobbing, an amazing thing.
The entire meadow was full of their happy stems.
They were gay and carefree, there were no amends.
I watched from the hill, a dandelion puff, floating by.
One snapped me up and quickly said “Hi!”
I was surprised, she had seen some worth in me.
The next to arrive was an excited yellow bumblebee.
Must Mention Retention at Convention
must have to mention
would not be much retention
in crazy convention
James Thesarious Horn
A reception next week
but convention
a man says.
Must be a squirrel convention —
bushy tales along the way.
The road was nutty-gray.
Seven of them held signs:
Parking this way.
Hold on...I hear a knock
at the door.
It’s an acorn salesman.
I tell the little rascal,
“I’m not interested.”
But the impolite salesman
throws nuts on the floor,
scurries in,
followed by his cohorts.
It’s like The Hobbit.
These creatures are not invited.
They toss and roast these nuts,
on a warm Spring day,
in my hearth.
Who was it that invented fire,
imagination and critters?
They leave ashes and fur
as I chase them with my broom.
“Get out!” They do;
a woodpecker flies in,
“Hullo! How do you do?”
My husband comes home.
I shrug my shoulders,
as he spies a woodpecker in his recliner.
The birdy’s tired after drilling holes in our walls.
The rascal gets the boot. Better than getting shot.
My man pulls out of his bag, a stole —
fox fur.
You guessed it —
alive and well.
Well, that’s a wrap folks...
4/29/2021
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