The winner takes all, all your land, all your money, all your assets.
Assets like you, your family, your work, and all that you hold near and dear.
Winner takes all, all your stuff, like you and all of your assets.
Reading many historical records, we can learn of the winner-take-all wars, the loss of homes, money, jobs, and other stuff and the loss of people by many ways.
Winner takes all, all your stuff, like you and all of your assets.
Wars that have happened throughout time, the losers, the ones that lacked, lacked power, lacked knowledge, lacked the ability to protect, and had no knowledge, lost.
Winners takes all, all your stuff, like you and all of your assets.
So, remember everyone, you can lose, you can suffer loss, loss by failing to value life and assets, and freedoms that we all hold dear to our chest.
Freedom is not free, it has never been free, many have fought, many have died, many work hours and hours to keep us free from harm.
Lifting prayers to God, today and always.
Spain won the world cup yesterday, one to nil - but it was never close. Spain spent 70% of the game in Argentina’s backfield - pressuring.
Spain had nine respectable shots at a goal - scored one with another called back. Argentina had one shot that almost went in. I know losing when I see it - Argentina winning would have been a fluke.
Speaking of losing - Madonna at halftime.
A critic wrote that, "Madonna has come to represent America’s fear of aging."
Yeah, aging has never looked less appealing.
I may take up smoking.
I know, she recently had a single hit #1 on the Billboard charts.
Back when the Beatles were cranking out 24 #ones in a row, you had to sell a million records a week to crack the top ten, and 1.3 to 1.5 million a week to stand a chance at a #1. Today (with streaming) you can get a #1 with a 7th of that number.
I love early Madonna - but I know creepy when I see it.
Who’s older, Madonna or Trump?
Whatever, both are too old for their jobs.
.
.
A song for this:
Vogue by Madonna
Cruel and Pretty by Over the Rhine
In finding that one that was lost
Sometimes has a bridge to cross
No bridge too far might be said
All depends on the clues where lead
Are they strange the places we look
Are sad or harmful the places we’re took
Is desire or love we seek worth finding
Behind what obstacles are the wanted hiding
Are the dangers hidden possible surviving
While this hunger continue it’s habitual thriving
Could what I seek be the cause of dying
Is it that I suffer from worth the crying
Is missing caused by misunderstanding
Can traditional laws be more than demanding
Or would fate find a way to leave me standing
And another lost cause my reason for damning
When customer service forgets its name
and kindness dims to a fading flame ,
RESPECT grows thin and help grows small--
you start to wonder if they care at all…
She grew so harsh, as if kindness were a chore!
She pressed like a child, fierce in what she required,
never stopping to see how your body was tired.
She urged you to read - though the words turned to haze,
not caring your blurred eyes had reached their fading phase…
You try to rest inside that cramped small room ,
But comfort never seems to find its bloom.
No fan to stir the thick and weighted air ,
Just crowded bodies coughing everywhere…
You suffer through each careless, noisy burst
and peace , it seems , is always the one cursed.
And when all they care about is what they can gain,
not noticing your tired body or the strain,
it hits you somewhere deep, a quiet kind of sore…
some people put money first, nothing else anymore.
written_12072025_PandaLodge HomeStay
duck marched by wearing a hat on his head
he was fluffy, as if he had been overfed
he stumbled into a pillow and slid down a hill
I grabbed his rain hat and have it still
If he returns, he can have it of course
a rain hat looks silly on an aged old horse
But I am hoping to once again see that duck
Because I heard that rubbing their head brings you good luck
dog chases ant
ant gets away
dog chases bee
tries to catch it in his mouth
three or four times
bee escapes
Wild Wilma woodland faerie
lived in a lantern with lucky Larry
An elf resolved to never commit or marry
This is why he soon lost his love, Wilma faerie
Lost
Losing makes us stronger
Or so it is said
Someone who loses all the time doesn’t say
That
They're the murder
The puppet
For disgrace
Steadily bullying
Whosoever fails or loses the race.
That's the game
They play
Murdering
People's confidence
By belittling.
Steadily irritating
Whosoever they hate
Because they don't act
Or misbehave like them
Steadily murdering
Who don't support
Or partake in their game of mediocre.
Bridge club Barbie had her dance down well
The cards began flying up and down the hill
We ducked as the eight of clubs flew on past
She’s in a toot said her friend Willow Wast.
The seven of hearts went winging past my ear
I moved out of the way, for I was way too near
Bridge club Barbie was in a mood for sure.
Her partner’s bid was as awful as smelly manure
The fat man claims to be a man of the world
and dances around the stage as if to prove it.
The leading lady laughs deliciously
and exits arm-in-arm with the thin man~
after all she knows the fat man is a jolly sort
and not like normal people
with feelings to be considered.
fainting
painting
11/7/23
We're now into the year of twenty twenty three
And still there's no solution to see eye to eye
Will we learn since descending from the trees
Or are we everending to simply walk on by
Lifes global insecurities amidst epidemic rife
Whilst conglomeration greed suffocates souls
Lacerating lives like a dark alley flick knife
It'll never be for the poor, only richers goals
We're now into the year of twenty twenty three
It's been a year since two neighbours became
Will they learn since descending from the trees
Its the same old story, no one takes the blame
Lifes global insecurities amidst epidemic rife
Blatant corruption aplenty, food banks strive
As we read, the constant fueling, more strife
Knowing days, the next, accumulating lives
We're now into the year of twenty twenty three
Its all very well the few that can bunker down
Then, when everything else loses its voice
Were we mapped out, to our radiation drown.
Dasher was reluctant, and in a bad mood anyway
So, he let Santa try to push him, out of his way
Santa gave an elongated sigh as he pushed him up snow.
But Dasher weighs five hundred and two and refused to go.
What will I do with you? Santa asked his reindeer, the lead.
He might have to appoint another animal as North Pole steed.
I guess I will invite Vixen to be my new favorite, Santa said.
This made Dasher angrier; his cheeks turned pinkish red.
Prancer and Dancer were laughing at the situation at hand.
Rudolph was giddy, dancing to a Mexican tequila band.
Dasher ran off, showing his backside with a sassy flip.
Making Santa yell out “bleepy gleepy creepy gyp blip!”
a warlocks magic
cannot compare to witches
wands now in battle
as she transmogrifies him
he quietly creeps away
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