Some times it's difficult to rhyme.
We are living in a interesting time.
Putin's war which won't relent,
nor will our "telepathic" ex-President..
Covid still making people sick.
Our information stolen with a click...
After watching the news, our economy
is going down the tubes..
Shortages in the food chain and here
comes another hurricane...
People scramble to our borders, so
stay at home and count you're quarters...
Vote them out!
Vote them out!
Though the many
Marxist will curse
you out. Let them
defame, try to shut
your mouth – our
youth need a chance
to live free and dance
something other than
Commie Tunes, like from
those who wrote of
Freedom's Silvery Moons,
Cohan's pro American Tunes –
Man, has Entertainment
gone down the tubes!~
too many honoring only
Performing
Woke Boobs.
*Letter to my daughter who had various surgeries when she was a baby.
Maya
you are as still as a rose
as prayers work through
your small body
and needles rest in your arm.
I watch the IV
drip
like tears
down the tubes
and your eyes are enameled
as you hide from a secret
place of pain.
I've never been a fighter.
I'd prefer being a captive
to the ghosts
dancing around in my
head.
But, as I watch you battle
against your own body,
I see a warrior,
a light peaking out through your
veiled lids.
I hope someday to be
as strong as
you.
He can only find oil by opening a can of sardines.
By hoping to make money, he employs some strange means.
He takes his metal detector, and wanders along the beach.
Is there some buried treasure well within his reach?
With almost any IPO, he buys big blocks of stock.
Sooner or later, he goes down the street to pawn and hock.
This individual thinks he can break the bank in the casino.
With any sense, he knows this isn’t the way to go.
The way he rolls the dice leaves plenty of room for doubt.
His bankroll goes down the tubes with each seven out.
Lottery tickets are purchased at the corner store by the bunch.
He thinks he has the winning number. There is always a hunch.
The morning after the drawing, there is usually disappointment.
He is always aiming for the penthouse, but winds up in the basement.
Does this individual’s description have familiarity?
That is a person who reeks with gullibility.
All around the glasshouse grew hemp in fields
And when the plants began to ripen and flare
The beguiling grass-seeds caught in air
Flew through the windows of the glasshouse
Into the teapot boiling on the stove
Into the teacup mother was to served
Her cluck and company ready for tea
Waited eagerly for the brew much loved
Hot and steaming, in they dove
Tastes delightful, delicious, superb!
Tea and tea-loaf prepared of same
Strengthened richness as hemp in came
Mother proclaimed her pipes kept clean
By the brew she made of all who were keen
Into the throat, down the tubes
Into the airways, brain waves, light waves!
There stood a lighthouse of clear thoughts
No stone be thrown that could not save retort
A glasshouse be a theatre of personas willed
Light entered, willed, darkness creeps recoiled.
Was it that hemp caused the enlightening so feared?
Or did it cause the illness of mind also jeered?
Was it the lighthouse that shone too bring?
Save the sailorettes in the night?
What could it be, terrified, hemp is to be burned at stork?
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