Peace deals seem to give Trump a good-bye kiss--
To self-proclaimed messiah of world peace
Who thinks he’s King Canute
Who held waves, made them mute,
Peace, no real estate deal,
Nor Trump, one-for-all pill,
A shot in dark is more likely to miss.
_____________________________
Happenings | 13.12.2025 | kiss, humour, peace, political, USA, limerick
Note: Trump’s peace deals that come apart seem to suffer from a Humpty-Dumpty Syndrome. And he does not know how to put Humpty-Dumpty back together. Russia-Ukraine peace deal is nowhere. Thailand and Cambodia are fighting back again. So are Congo and Rwanda, whilst Gaza peace plan seems in limbo. And the only one that works is Indo-Pak that Trump has nothing to do with! Yet, the Nobel Peace Prize, ah what a lollypop!
Black men more likely to get than not,
those regressive genes again we forgot,
coming from monkeys, white men from fish,
evolution, sneaked out of things they wish.
I had my test - PSA was about ten, okay,
gave a grunt when I left, alright on the day;
if one thing doesn't get you - something else will,
which one are you - maybe die laughing still.
Feeling a bit dizzy today, perhaps I'll lie down,
took a neurofen, wonder if it helps white and brown;
think of some friends who took their own lives,
bottle of booze and pills, then the spirit dives.
All so gloomy isn't it - enjoy before too late,
believe or not because u ain't coming back again mate.
“I think therefore I am."
This quote was the difference between flesh and steel,
but was is past tense.
Now steel can think, imagine, filter, move.
The capabilities of steel are only what we allow it to have.
The quote ‘I think therefore I am’
is too simple for philosophy anymore, but no shame on the originator,
as this quote was created during a time where a moving empty suit of armor was more likely to be a ghost than a simple human mechanism.
‘I think therefore I am’ isn’t invalid; it is just misinterpreted today.
‘I feel, therefore I must.’
This quote will now and forever be the difference between flesh and steel for one simple reason:
when you turn off a machine, it will feel nothing.
When you kill a human, it will beg for its life.
this difference isn't about humanity, but its that machine has a choice to be able to show its emotions, but humans don't.
I’m driving my car down a road.
A road, I’ve driven so many times in the past
But today I’m seeing an aspect
That I’ve never noticed.
As the sun is flickering through the trees
As I pass by, the seconds ticking,
Houses, people and things.
I’m daydreaming thinking that my car is like life
Traveling through time.
I see everything passing me by.
I could put on my turn signal and pull over.
I could just sit in the moment and ponder.
But, then all those cars behind me
Would pass by me into the future.
Leaving me here on the side of the road
In stasis, in the past.
When human beings don’t have stuff to face us
We become limited and half @ss.
The thing about human beings, we’re not wired for pause,
We’re driven to drive, to keep going forward.
It’s not in our nature to linger for long.
And, although no matter what we do,
Time moves on waiting for no one.
Occasionally there are a few of us
That may sit upon our hands.
But what I would tell the aliens
Is that we are more likely to quickly,
Drive directly into the eye of the storm.
"If you put a really small value upon yourself, rest assured that the world will not raise your price." --Anonymous
Hard to be a humble soul
In a world of silver and gold
Some rather tweet than to speak
Others prefer cookie cutters than unique
Self esteem is like a boat's sail
Without it more likely to fail
It’s ok to ride tides pride
Yet still stay humble on inside
"Even if it was the farewell, on the last day, everyone was busy giving poses and clicking photos."
Who knows when we will meet again?
Or will never meet in this life again!
If we met, then time would have changed,
Blood same, but person will be changed.
Better to remain far from everyone,
But close enough to archives everyone.
To be remembered we had a great time,
Strange to friends at memorial time.
Now I wake up the same time as for school,
But now I am not a student more of school.
Meeting new fresh ones is the rule of days,
But I am stuck in back old school days.
No one would have remembered!
When was the last P.T. period!
Might be more likely to be remembered,
When was the physics period.
Freedom was all we were asking for,
Realised for whom we were asking for!
If it was meant to be over in a day,
Then why we remember moments in a day.
A day of reunion is not enough as twelve years,
But if we met will discuss the same years.
At the end will pose seeing the camera,
And the photo will forever remain in camera.
As boy I loved summer for holidays
Notwithstanding its sweltering hot days,
In youth I found it good--
It strips all nearly nude,
Now when I’m old, it matters in no ways.
Today, summer feels like God’s grave mistake,
Perhaps He in heaven had little stake
For hot summer on Earth,
Maybe it was His mirth --
Betwixt two stress-less climes, an Amphibrach!
Nigh undeterred by it, humid and damp,
Summer’s the time to put troubles on ramp
And roll them down to hell,
To deepest of its dale,
Whist haply you hail in a summer camp.
The wise tell me of their view often rolled:
When hot, youth tend to lose morale’s fine gold.
But then, it’s in cold climes
More than at any times
That morale’s lost under warm blanket fold.
Summer solstice nor ever a full moon
That love surrounds O like sound on sand dune,
It is winter solstice
More likely to entice
You leisurely till late night’s reigning noon.
___________________________________
Limerick |14.07.2024| summer
Poet’s note: Summericks: Limericks on summer
INTERVIEW
Hello, so you’re a grain of sand
I hope that you’re the right one
It’s identification, you understand
Now that the counting has begun
You claim to be one in a million
Perhaps it is a different meaning
And it’s more likely to be trillion
Even to a higher number leaning
But now let this interview begin
So, what in your life stands out
Did you claim an ancient origin
Please tell me what that’s about
Found washed up on the beach
Maybe in the company of others
All so very close enough to reach
It’s as though you’re all brothers
You are an individual, you insist
As a distinctive tiny size of grain
Your unique features I’ve missed
Unless you’d like to now explain
Across the world, different shades
Mostly gold, also black and white
Fine and coarse in various grades
Will you stand out, you just might
This interview’s been hit and miss
As your claim this distinct identity
But my last question to you is this
As sand, are you a discrete entity
Asked the crowning Trees
of their Grass rooting neighbors
When you feel like singing
while dancing
are you more likely to invoke devotion
to capitalism's competitions
or compassion's cooperation?
Responsive chords,
amusing reeds
and whistling thistles
shyly reply
When we feel most wealthy voiced
and healthy choiced
are we more likely to invest
in red soiled cults
of secular supremacy
or green cultures
of sacred communion?
MotherTrees of crowning shade
for their root systemic neighbors
flexed their branching muscles
groaning
moaning through Earth's wind
and rain,
heat
and pain
Our best way to heal
Othering smothering instincts
is to repair our shared cooperative soil
restoring EarthPeace soul
of co-invested health
Thereby growing out
our shared climate
with compassion's devoted wealth
Sang the crowning Trees
while dancing with Grass rooting
up shooting
neighbors.
Our nation is being privatized
By selfish politicians
Who are manipulating us
And their hate filled cries.
The question becomes a stark why
We ask the dark unwise
Driving us to laced dimes
Or writing rhymes.
Love is the answer I surmise,
Nobody else buys.
Emotions have no value in the marketplace
Unless you're of a certain race
That reminds them of their former master
Then they're more likely to share their wealth.
We need more than paper
To tear down these paper walls.
The order becomes too tall
When we apply an objective concept (currency)
To a subjective principle (value)
Our ideas of value get tangled,
Our empathy is mangled;
Our discourse becomes angled.
Discussions turn to wrangles
And our lives never left the jungle
But there's always a rumble.
Regimes always tumble,
Humanity continues to stumble
Earth's health starts to fumble.
Molesting the nation like a creepy uncle
Until we see our follies unfold
Then will we be so bold
To say we can do it on our own.
Hungry cricketers score more runs and take more wickets,
Hungry Doctors tend to make new medical breakthroughs'
Hungry children produce less waste,
Hungry people are more likely to come in out of the cold and join the fold,
Hungry worms make for better soil.
A hunger for friends as children mostly produces smart adults,
A hunger for bread forces more to bake,
A hunger for the truth produces more who are literate,
A hunger for perfection produces great tradespeople,
A hunger for success reduces the number on the benefit,
A hunger for acknowledgement gets more people out of the house,
A hunger for peace means less chance of war,
A hunger for good poems makes poetry soup taste better.
A thirst for knowledge is what sets Humans apart.
there is a tree in the forest
targeted by lightning in a storm
ten times more likely to get hit
than any other tree
because lightning has a “type”
like men have a “type”
she goes after an oak
six times more often than any other tree
no one knows why
because they have forgotten that lightning is a woman
who wants to destroy the sturdy and the strong
she wants to take down a man
In my neighborhood, there is
A well-known auction space
Where items are displayed before
The auction will take place.
It’s open to the public, so
Today we went to see
Some very famous songs composed
By Freddie Mercury.
So cool to see, in his own hand,
With doodles on the page,
The lyrics which I’ve heard
A thousand times, which still engage.
Why he crossed out “Mongolian”
Is anybody’s guess.
Was “Bohemian” with “Rhapsody”
More likely to impress?
The auction house had other
Special things to gaze upon
Before the day the auctioneer
Says, “Going, going, gone!”
Columbine in the mountains are the palest of blues;
Ours are more intense.
Gentle born ahigh and free
Tougher raised from within a fence.
Blooms match the hue of and reach for the sky,
Elsewhere its polluted, they're more likely to die.
By the highest mountain
Find the coolest breeze.
The most fragrant nectar
invites the buzziest bees.
And the flies of butter and the birds which hum,
Edwin James knew for such sweetness
they all promised to come.
In lowness a wind can blow harsh intoxication,
But closer to God may be heavenly 'proximation.
"Such color" they say, "such strength in powerful hue",
Or perhaps instead energy drawn from pain, ills or rue.
Oh Columbine speak with your pallette what say you?
Is your gift the intense or the Colorado blue?
It is worn, patched, and tattered, frayed about the edges. It has at times offered me adrenal ascendency, scared me out of my wits, challenged me to act, or to be still. Its warmth has often failed me. Its compass deviated from true north or at times just ignored. I was told to “wear it as a loose garment”, yet it often felt too restraining or cumbersome. Still it is my choice to slip into it each morning, share a quiet moment, a sip of coffee, a laugh about a patch or stain.
It is more frail now, more likely to require re-stitching of old wounds and faded patches. And yet it serves me well. Its distant colors chuckle as we recall a hot sauce stain, that bar in Angelo, the too often sewed pocket still holds its own. Several of the “original” buttons remain to taunt the newer ones. None are sure where the others went, or why.
And so we sip coffee and recall the tears and joys of birthday cakes, of babies snuggled in its flannel fierceness, and carry on.
loosely worn garments
a history of flannel
frayed edges of life
2/25/2023
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