What is life
If it is not suffering?
And to avoid suffering
Is to avoid life itself.
Suffering
Physically tortured,
Mentally afflicted;
An inevitable pattern.
People inflict suffering on others,
Yet when alone,
We bear our own.
We suffer for ourselves.
Life is all about suffering
To find something
Worth suffering for.
It’s just the keyboard and me
as far as I can see
Midnight approaches
armies of rats and roaches
try to inflict their damage
but ‘tis I with the advantage
Once started typing, even to the hideous and insidious
~ a werewolf is totally oblivious
Men need prove them time and again
In ways that endorse them as men—
It makes MAGA what ‘tis,
As is Trump what he is,
Trying hard to self-inflict pain.
To bald, I sell hell of hair oil,
He often boasts to world on boil,
Miserably to fail
In Mid-east, seeking bail,
Iran refusing to fall in his foil.
_________________________
Happenings | 12.05.2026 | humour, USA, political, Limerick
Note: Many of Trump’s MAGA followers, a faithful lot for long, seem to get increasingly tired of his foolish ventures that only make day-to-day life hell in USA. Trump still persists selling these remedies to them, gulf oil to all others. This little ditty likens them as a cure-all oil. He thinks he‘s a good salesman, but is he?
327.
The Plea of the Blinded Cyclops
Trespasser! How dare you do this to me?!
Now with your blunder no more I can see!
After having my shelter & fodder then you'll flee!
Ungrateful! I sheltered you but my eye you shattered!
I fed you but my blood you splattered!
Now I will crush you and your nasty herd!
Animals! I will flay you alive once your're snatched!
I will shred your flesh once you're clutched!
Don't know my brutality has never been matched?!
Criminals! You will soon pay for your brutality!
Don't you know you have enraged thee?!
Thee you have offended…the mighty god of the sea!
Godless! How dare you inflict the son of a god?!
For yourself it's fruit is really, really bad!
For me my father to you is really, really mad!
Insane! Odysseus, also you deserve a cruel bane!
Poseidon! Hear your son, Polyphemus, wrenching in pain!
Let not this Plea of the Blinded Cyclops fall in vain!
-02/02/2015
(Dumarao)
*Fallen Myth Collection
To think of death for some, strikes fear
The end of life we soon must adhere
To think of the pain death can inflict
The dead die into peace while the living contradict
To think of the darkness death may bestow
Only when we die will we really ever know
(1989)
Being taken for granted does not feel good. There must be an implied rule for men to advise women of the same lies. I have met the same man 100 times. When do I get to meet someone only once? Being hard is tiring but being soft is weakening. How do I be soft while also being strong? Humans kill ants without even knowing. Am I an ant? Because I can't be human. I get stepped on so much, it feels as if the person doesn't even realize it. Because if they realized it, why continue to inflict that much pain on someone? I have been told that I was better off dead, I have been told nobody will ever love me, I have been told I will die lonely, I have been told more painful than positive things. Sometimes I look in the mirror and see nothing reflecting back, as if I am a ghost. I feel ignored and only seen when someone is in need. Everyone loves me conditionally, when can I feel love unconditionally? When can I be catered to? When can I call on someone when I am in need? I can't and that's ok. Maybe one day, maybe not. Until then, I'll just continue to sit in this rain, waiting for the right sun to dry me up.
wild thrill of the chase
as surroundings catch fire
turns nation to waste
munition's flash we admire
situation growing dire
no promises made
more important things to do
the rules must be obeyed
propaganda skews the view
of who has done what to who
flames leaping higher
unseen future shall survive
in the muck and mire
best apologists will thrive
history gets out alive
courage tempers soul
heroes come and heroes go
some left less than whole
mayhem many know
the cost of fighting the foe
beyond the conflict
smooth narrator turning pages
wounds the news inflict
all wisdom of the sages
unread as battle rages
breeding arrogance
power supporting power
without variance
greed guilds the shining tower
dregs of truth, bitter and sour
so easy to start
war almost free to enter
then comes the hard part
invasion setting tenor
pulling out, the tormentor
on and on it goes
quick beginning with no end
branded by war's throes
bloody quagmire we descend
not just gods which we offend
The Little Ice Age
Cold
northern
winds sweep down
across Europe,
displacing warm air
and pushing it upwards,
engulfing the landscape in
the grip of the Little Ice Age
to inflict hardships on the people
who partake in winter activities.
***
Note:
The “Little Ice Age” was a period that lasted from 1300 to 1900 AD in which abnormally lower temperatures influenced living conditions in Europe.
Shift in place,
Move still while keeping silent.
Deafening screams locked behind teeth
Some profound rage kept from an
Ineffable target.
Held In place,
By un-moving days.
Simmering at the surface.
Hidden by the stoic face.
Waiting for the instance,
When the world will cease the snail's pace.
Primed for even a sliver of movement.
So it may strike a hand into the stream.
As time rushes by, finding its mark.
An object to direct that malice towards.
Expelling the poison that has accumulated.
Worsening with every breakfast and dinner.
Despite the mania it brings,
And injuries I inflict.
It is cathartic.
A moment of motion
Is better than a life of stillness.
There was a poor bloke once
inflicted with miserable leprosy
his story, the mind it stuns
but such was his jealousy!
One day some angels came to him
with mercy to heal his ailment
They inquired of his wish and whim
but were in for a shocking lament.!
The angels asked him as to whether
he wanted health restored, his disease healed
Replied the leper, 'he wanted neither
What he said hence, his jealousy revealed!
For he said, ''you needn't heal me, but instead
Inflict everyone else with my malady as well
let all of them lie loathed and deplored in bed,
as I've had to all these days like hell''!
The angels left astounded, simply returned to heaven
with neither healing him nor inflicting others
They still wonder from above the heavens seven
at how man envies his fellow brothers.
Ah, envy is a fire that consumes thee most,
Far better for humans if they coveted not
Why want ye, haunt ye another's fortune
like some covetous malevolent ghost?
Therefore why at all covet
You haven't right to it unless
it was your right, or was snatched
A fit of jealousy might make you regret
and to hell you may be dispatched.!
"The wound is the place where the light enters you".
As a woman, been hurt many times,
Rejected, ignored, ridiculed,
Still, if there is a rebirth,
If I return to this earth again,
I want to be a woman!
I never knew words can be so hurtful,
Words can inflict wounds as cruel as a dagger can.
When I was bruised, I learned to bear that pain,
Staying unperturbed, upright and strong.
In those moments I realized,
It’s not only the agony I am going through,
I am being enlightened by suffering,
Disillusioned with human nature,
Humans can be as cruel as animals,
Sometimes may be more.
Those wounds were not life-threatening,
Nor were they damaging for my mental health,
They did not break me.
Instead a serene light entered into me,
My vision of the world became unclouded,
My confidence in myself increased many folds.
The drooping flower did not fall on the ground,
Petals were not crumpled,
It opened in its glory.
Have you ever been so angry
That you were just silent
You left emotion hanging
And lack of words seem violent
So upset with another who
You care for or love so dear
That you feel like a fool
And wonder why am I here
Some people lunge and try
To inflict what they feel inside
Upon another person hurting
Using words as fists inserting
But I choose to let the fuse
Slowly burn as the world turns
Something I seem to notice
No matter what you do wrong none of it matters
Because of your ‘big heart’
But I think you need to start seeing that
You’re not the victim
Why do you always think that you’re the victim?
All you do is inflict
You say you ‘loved me like your own’
But the only love you’ve ever shown
Isn’t something I’d like to have known
So why must you hurt me and then act like
You’re the victim
You’re not the victim
Please get that through you’re screwed up head.
You’re not the victim
All you’ve done is inflict
So much pain upon me
Even when it’s good
It always ends bad
So I must ask
Why must you act like you’re the victim
You’re not the victim maybe it’s too complex
Maybe you’re too perplexed
To understand that maybe
You’re not the victim
I feel like the victim
Sometimes it strikes me. How unaware you are.
The words you speak. The harm they inflict.
Or worse, the denial, as if truth could simply vanish.
But love…it is absent.
You call only to boast of your effort,
The concern that could keep us close is missing.
Absent from a heart whose depths you can’t reach.
And still…it hurts.
If even a sliver of hope remained to reach you.
If even a small chance existed,
I would tell you what I long for you to hear.
But hope…it is gone.
I am not doomed to bear the blame,
so your hands can be clean.
Yet, one day. Maybe. I’ll thank you.
Though…not today.
In time, I’ll be grateful you broke my spirit.
For it is through that, I found her.
Oh how I wish you could meet her.
She is…love.
And I love her. I do. Deeply.
The woman I have become.
The light inside her, how it shines.
She has…peace.
Seeing now what could have been yours.
I ache for your loss.
How can I hold my hurt when in the end,
It is you…who lost.
“The only thing necessary for the triumph of evil,
Is for good men to do nothing.”
It's a quote routinely attributed to Edmund Burke.
"I have no right to post this.
Here in my ivory tower where nothing is amiss.
I eat when hungry and drink when I thirst.
Feel pity for those babes, but I always come first." The Poet.
A child is precious no matter where they be.
So who could inflict such agony?
They say the end is near,
If the crying stops by a child so dear,
Sweet might has no strength left to cry.
The mother must sit and watch the babe die.
Donations given but aid cant get through.
Great suffering by hunger, if the aggressors only knew.
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