LOWRY stylised matchstick mensch
Politiker niedrig carbon auß
Low grade carbon Politicans go!
Ihr seid nicht nuztfoll kein wert
Kein ahnûnug
You are of no use, you are mindless
Cronies.'
Der zukunft ist heir im Berlin heute
2024, die leüte sind rau! sie whërte
Du bist auß-pieste' die bauer
Im friedens laßen.!
The future is here, in Berlin today in
2024, the people are angry.' They are
Defending, you have gone off-track.'
Leave the farners in peace.'
Du bist niedrig carbon mensch
You are low value carbon people.!
Written: October 19, 2023
Poem in the Fragmented Form Created by Poetess: Constance la France
The good work is done by people with jagged, broken edges because those edges cut things and leave an imprint, a design. By Harry Crews
_______________________________________
Love's blades tear within as a dull scalpel with teeth
Leaving merely a crushed, dead chunk of flesh
It shreds, gouges, and weeps till the heart bequeaths
Offering its heart gambles will be accepted fresh,
Being hugged frowns as it gulps the vile reality
The dagger sinks further, piercing the frailty of sanity
A heart still bleeds while succumbing to sociality
Pathetic, petrous parcel with pebbly peaks
Jagged-toothed dome rising into bespeaks,
Each is engraved, erose, and has surface breaks.
Swallowed by a murky quagmire of an abyss beneath,
Snapping at heels all life, laden with vessel mensch,
Unfathomable evil clings to grief and jagged vitality
Vow to thrive with every word your soul speaks.
~ Pangiella~
9/9/2023
Pangiella wed-a wealthy Pakistani.
He bought her a pricey Mogdiliani!
Plus, an annual supply of Pastrami
Be assured, he was a cultured mensch!
With a penchant to kiss her on any park bench,
For he adamantly adored, his hot-blooded wench!
They wed, had children, by last count, three.
Of course, busy as romantic honey bees.
Living contentedly, on the lovely Isle of Capri.
No more poetry, does wench Pangie ever try to write.
Busy now with family, parties and being socially right.
He keeps her busy with love and Madeira on moonlit nights!
He saw the noble beast collapse in blood and dirt,
Lashed by the owner’s cruel and ruthless crop
He rushed to cradle its head upon his stained coat,
And wept with sorrow that choked his broken heart.
He shared the pain of the majestic steed,
He cursed the world, its deceits, and all its sin.
He knew the truth was far beyond his reach,
He felt his faith, belief & reason crumble within.
For wasn’t he / the voice of the unfathomed deep -
Questioning / God and all ancient morality.
Dreaming / of will, and power, and ecstasy, -
Sparking / and de-catechizing minds / with originality.
But in that moment he was just a simple man
Who loved a lamb more than his Übermensch.
Who gave up his mind for one last act of sanity
Who became a mythical hero despite his Mensch.
The sacrificial lamb with a final breath doth whisper -
...“”Dionysus, The Crucified” - I am…your Zarathustra””
Well, Howdy, Miss Belinda.
I am Rob, Pangie’s hearthrob.
Her TV is tuned to Waco,Texas!
To watch Trump in satisfaction.
That mensch, is who he is!
That’s her next POTUS in action.
Though the Left wants him in traction.
She admires his integrity.
Won’t bend to Woke Satisfaction!
15,000 of all colors in attendance!
We all raise our glasses high.
To America, to have a rebirth of abundance
Best wishes,
Rob, Newscaster
*********************
NEWSMAXTV.COM
AVAILABLE TO ALL DEVICES
HIS SHOW, ON 4pm and 8pm PST.
3/25/2023
Seizing each moment to be kind,
Listen, empathy employ, hear her words,
Appreciate small yet enormous signs,
Respond yet not overwhelm,
Cements our being valentines!
Just hearing her breathing,
Comforts, loneliness resigns,
Kindly searching deeds, acting wisely,
With Hashem’s aid yields love genuine!
Receive ruminations, attend expressions,
Kindles cupid, life as a couple sublime,
Despite turbulent exceptions we eschew,
Renew kindly favor time after time,
Sensitive antennae align the benign,
Middos Tov, being a Mensch,
Grow a good eye that culls the fine,
Delving with heart into her druthers is song,
To courage not chicken out align,
Surrender poetry not “Poultry in Motion!”
When your world is topsy-turvy
Opt out -- if you must
But don't stop CHARITY
GIVE a few coins, slices of food,
To the beggars, real or fake
And the universe heals THE HEART
By degrees. College degrees fail
All too often as does "religion,"
Just be human, a mensch, once
A day, at the very least, & "dance"
The blues away (reluctantly, secretly)
insulting yet a sponsor on a site where you compete
is much akin to little men a-peeing their own feet
a mystic rose by any name is lovely as can be
so be a mensch, clean up your stench, and act reasonably
I
July will forever be "America's birthday"
I try to recall why each month or holiday
Is special, but did forget, for days now
Nelson Mandela had been born 18th July
I did work in his government, but sadly
For me Madiba would not run again
Setting an example beyond the continent
That access to office is not license to reign
II
So from beleaguered South Africans
Happy Birthday Nelson Mandela, mensch,
Loadshedding is daily now, in South Africa
Immigration from poorer African nations,
Disguised often with student, retirement,
And business visas, especially from Nigeria -
Is exposed this week ... As in the USA
We feel overwhelmed, as with inflation
And the shabby state of our democracy ...
You remind us of your faults, of all humans:
We fail to be a savior anywhere, but The One
I
Jim was the archetypal Mensch
We loved writing, Greenbelt MD, Jesus
II
At the edge of my tears
I could sit, daydream, make monuments with words
The Hindu soul within my Soul
Had adored weaving flowers for Jaggan
Whose mom died while he was the driver
Our ancestors will gladly bequeath garlands
Tropical and exotic strelitzia and protea
But you and I are forever in another lineage
The eternal family through a lamb, Jesus
Gentle soul, I vividly remember
Rare gem of a man
A mensch, he sure was
North Star of the family
Down to earth and so kind
Proud father of six
A gifted raconteur who...
Showered me with stories of old
Wise man whose words
I absorbed and imbibed as a youth
Seeds of insight he embedded in me
Droplets of life lessons he sprinkled
One-of-a-kind sage; this great man was...
My beloved, late grandfather.
Date written: 01/18/2022
To Daniel F. O’Leary:
I always pass your plaque
On mornings when I take my walk;
I note it coming back.
Your birth in 1938
And death at 64
Are all I know about you
But I wish that I knew more.
Yet someone cared enough
To place a plaque upon a bench,
Which tells me that perhaps you were
A stand-up guy, a mensch.
Though others may not notice
Or think twice about your name,
In my imagination
You have staked a tiny claim.
Don't expect an hors d'ouervre when you're out of work, mate!
Blame that on politics or blame it on your fate.
However much you mutter,
from now on it's bread and butter.
Just pretend you're on a diet.
You'll be happy if you try it.
Don't think you're in a ditch
but take pity on the rich.
To them it doesn't matter
that poor health awaits the fatter.
Dear reader, be a mensch.
Don't criticize my French.
Oh, my love, without you, I cannot breathe,
That hot am of yours, going up my sleeve!
Eternal Father......... what a fine mensch,
I found that night on the slivered park bench!
Ouch, the pain, but ah, so sensually groovy.
We removed them on our knees in gratitude.
I mean it Father, not as a platitude, days ahead of nothing but him.
Add tall, frosted glasses, of ice cold, Bombay Gin!!
5/17/2021
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