daffy dapper dotted Dalmatians
enthusiastically expel eager excitement
fretfully fearing fuzzy frugal felines
giving gravestones and gargoyles goosebumps
hair-raising to the horrified hairy hounds
Ceuta is a Spanish city in North Africa (population: 80K people). On July 30-31, 2026 it was invaded by over 60,000 mostly young men (no women or children) who breached the border from Morocco. Some went back, but many thousands stayed or went to Spain and no one tried stop or expel them
To those who let the hordes come in:
You are the enemy within
And care not for folks of yours
The fiends walked through the open doors
They didn’t care for the law
The riots worst we ever saw
Payback when Spain Okay’s their stay
But own people they betray
Somewhere hides the “greater good”
Netflix or even Hollywood
Should pick the story of conquest
About how we lost the West
The Muslim savages are best
Failed breaks, all riled, brutal fest
They didn’t stop, run amok-crazed
Yet Spain’s “left” remain unfazed
They don’t belong, the devil’s seed
In our world, with our creed
Projection of the things to come
Continue play blind, deaf and dumb
August 5, 2026
To think.
To see, to understand.
To speak, to say what you think!
Be careful.
Be mindful of the thoughts.
Be mindful of the words.
Be careful with the voice.
It’s real to think.
It’s real to understand.
It’s real to speak.
It’s real but…
The system will stay the system.
The rich will stay the rich.
The poor will stay the poor.
Expendable. Expected.
Excommunicated.
Extreme. Excoriate.
Exemplify. Expose.
Extinguish. Expel.
Exclude. Exterminate…
A language rich in words for silencing, yet poor in words for loving.
False hope, I extinguish it all.
All your light, snuffed in my swallow.
Swallow hard flushing pretense down,
down choking as you expel false.
False flickers like a warning sign,
sign off with that last signature.
Signature you claim to detest,
detest with ease what is not false.
British soldier and statesman, Oliver Cromwell -
The Rump Parliament he sought to expel.
Some saw him as a hero of liberty.
Others condemned him for gross brutality.
Dreaming through the one day
Poet wonder
Words were popping into my head
It was happening from my bed
Sentences were directing the words
The next thing I knew, words and sentences formulated like a Poet
That’s when I knew, I was a Poet full of Impact and inspiration proven
A Poet will always be a Poet being the creator
Mind Leader behind from within
Alpha Interconnect
Many people are Poets, but are afraid to expel
Setting the stage is the now being the present
Emotions unlock
Turning situations and experiences into Word Motion
Sentences like a Tour Excursion
Poet Mission, “Educate, Delight and Intrigue”
Poets maneuver like stars that twinkle at night
Gentle and Tender warmth
Poets walk through spring flowers with the aroma of newness and freshness of their senses
The attention of surprise
Helping readers to realize
Today just an ordinary person
Tomorrow a Poet all along being known in the aftermath.
Its a strange and solemn peace.
The kinda peace found after wartime, except it’s a war you lost. Turmoil still short behind but there is relief to be found in the end.
The fighting is over. All hostilities ground to a halt.
Life can move on.
From the ashes of what once was, decimated and desolate,
The new arise.
A time of possibility, but not yet hope.
A faint glimmer in the rubble. Could be a coin, could be a piece of broken glass or metal. You either got a weeks bread or a cut finger.
I wander on, sack on my shoulder, cigarette in my mouth and nary a sigh on my breath nor tear on my cheek.
Ive no more tears to shed. No more sighs to expel.
The peace is firm yet hollow,
It seems these days I’ll take the empty peace to a chaotic existence.
Wander on, lonesome seeker.
Perhaps the horizon holds what I seek, perhaps it holds only despair.
But still I wander on because I’ll never know til I get there.
Alone
but not lonely
Void of sound
of movement
of people walking in and out
A breeze flows though my hair
I feel it on my arms and legs
I count slowly
Always an introvert
I enjoy the cold quiet
I am not empty
because I am alone
Peace
Tranquility
In this voided space
I can think
I can breath
I can expel energy
No pressure to fill that void
with words
with sound
with empty emotions
with trying to please someone
or trying to be someone I am not
I am alone
but that doesn't make me lonely.
Have you ever considered
how your shoes will look
without your feet?
I should call Dr. Killeen this afternoon,
find out if I have cancer
but I’m enjoying the extra weekend of not knowing.
Strong oscillations
gather rhythm
and expel me or accept me.
It’s annoying
being the center of attention,
the dead man walking.
Things often work out better than you expect
and this probably will too.
In the transition to non-existence,
Ken said, you get what you believe.
Now that is a truly scary thought,
even scarier than Life is but a dream.
Pain serves the purpose of preparing
one to die.
Other methods have been tried but this works best.
You tie up your affairs
or maintain the discipline you possessed
when feeling well. Eschew
certainty about the afterlife.
All will be given
that must be what faith means.
Don’t forget to breathe.
Rain happens. We supply the reasons.
Leave no footprint in eternity. No smell.
Like the bombardier beetle
with an advanced weapons system
It can expel an intense hot liquid pulsating jet of words
it blinds the frog before he can croak
aiming its turret in any direction with accuracy
After the ejection of each explosion
that of the boiling pressurised fluid
we can see the bug in politics talks hot air from the rear
a weapon system that science can't work out
I can see now why they dig for
it helps to cover over their trail in leading the blind
over the cliffs where they fall victim to a deadly cause
That which shifts the whole nature of things to suit tyrants
those whom play a hand in killing
NICKELS AND DIMES
Senseless life
Value null
Homeless Man
Streets my home
Alone in roam
No Bed just a pavement in the corner
Passer by pennies dropped
Other times nickels and dimes
Life being bitter
My name I don’t even remember
Societies outcast
The unfortunate
A life that was once striving
Now not having
The forgotten
Family that turned its back
It’s beyond fact being reality
Weathered my own storms
Sunny days living in darkness
No one knows the trouble I am in
Tears that no longer fall
Words no longer expel
My own unbreakable chains
Despair moment
The street my education
Wearing clothes all I have
Sadness with no smiles
A homeless man stuck on still
Virtues no more
Just an image decorating the pavement
The fortune of nickels and dimes
Dreadful story
There you have it
Homeless man morse.
Do go behind that cloud.
Do I wish to see your face?
Feel your warmth?
I seem to say no.
Why should I reject you?
Why, oh why, this no?
What foe do I face?
What warmth do I try to expel?
Yes, allow me to say no.
A cloud is there,
oh yes, it is there.
So go behind it, do go.
(placed 8 Sep 2025)
Just one thought.
Just one action or word.
Now spiraling down tragedy lane.
Stomach in knots, nausea burning the back of my throat.
Breathing turning shallow.
Body temperature too hot yet too cold all at the same time.
Who knew breathing could be so hard.
Focusing on the inhale filling my lungs.
Exhaling to expel the gut-wrenching feeling anxiety so kindly left behind.
Sun, your golden hues so breathtaking. Your rays shimmer fearlessly, and your warmth radiates down so fierce. Your rays peek through the grim clouds, brightening all in their way; your warmth wards off the abiding gloom. The grass and flowers await your comforting rays to expel their gloom. Laying in the fields, I await the warmth of your comforting embrace to ground me.
“To be abandoned by your own
is the most painful sadness known”
_by Poet
She lives alone, although her son lives there
a floor below- but they are worlds apart.
He comes and goes without a single care;
this sad abandon stabs his mother's heart.
He pays no rent or helps with any chores.
Her food's delivered- ordered on the phone.
She cannot drive or visit any stores.
So with a broken heart, she deals alone.
Three other children live some miles away
and try to visit her throughout the year;
but cannot force their sibling to obey
and help their mother out by force or fear.
Abandoned now at eighty-two years old;
how does a mother deal with such great pain?
To get him out, the family was told,
“You can't expel a son from their domain.”
No course exists to remedy this wrong,
a son who so abandons her this way.
No reasons for his actions came along
for her to live this hell from day to day.
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