We write;
because to bleed this much would kill us…
by David Nickle Read©?2026
Magazine madness of fashion obtuse,
Scantly clad teen’s covert abuse,
Circumvent moral by calling her model,
Grey line law’s favourite excuse.
Tick it and tock it,
And snappily chat,
Or X book of faces,
To summon the rat.
Where all indignation is vehemently expressed, where righteousness of self is digitally pressed, a mirror without flaw from which to throw stones, a facade without face or flesh or bones.
Artificial intelligence,
Artificial incantation,
Artificial infection,
Artificial indignation,
Artificial incandescence,
Artificial imagination,
Artificially incarcerates;
The innocents of nations.
Forgiven by your convenience,
Your need to gadget consume,
So yes their abuse is all your fault;
The fault of all in this room.
Illegal but one click away,
Ai can undress us all,
Immoral but here to play,
Yay for all our lovely tech,
What more can I say…
by David Nickle Read©2026
With the minting of the Lincoln Penny coming to its sorrowful end,
It'll now cost you a 'Nickle For Your Thoughts', my miserly friend!
Or consider the phrase 'That's My Two Cents For What It's Worth', old chum;
It'll now cost you two nickles or a dime - that's the new rule of thumb!
Alas, no more penny candy for the little tykes - forget the penny arcade;
These are just a few things that'll vex us since pennies are no longer made!
I reckon they'll have to mint more nickles to accommodate this feckless nation!
Oft', I ponder how Honest Abe would feel about 'his loss of face' and inflation!
They didn't have an upbringing
it was more of a downbringing instead.
It happens when a parent acts more like a friend.
Milk and cookies replaced by Nickle bags and fifths of mayhem.
Fun always trumps discipline.
The survivors of a downbringing suffer from post-traumatic Lost syndrome.
Have trouble honoring boundaries, obeying authority.
Can't take direction, hold a job, and are undisciplined.
Have attitude problems, with some ending up in the pen.
The wild children of the dusk. Have become feral adults.
Now they treat their children like just another friend.
Creeping in the shadows
Keeping it from bad hoes
Reaping in the benefits
Keeping em in to it
Fall in to the zone alone
All the The road to grown
Call on that phone at home
stall on that stone to loan
Cash only gets em more bread
Fast money money on a dead nickle
Ya they tread sickles
Homie they swing swing hammers
They spree planners
they movers they shakers
Snakes making on a fake cure
waiting for those lastest rate to drop
Haters and Fakes that you know you like
I got the mic your wants to sing through
Big part of my life that I been through
Next part itsl all passion
They call castin for big chunk,
Im mall smashing for fresh kicks
Im fall fasting to last in the mix
Red Slime: must you disguise your worth
aren't you treasure
which Mica and quarts
sand and gold
Aren't you tresure
that a torch should solitify
you into a crystalized anomlly
aren't as much tresure as gold itself
nitrate and phosfate
the seperation of a wayer soaked claim
Mica Schits introduced me to
the Grayish Gold ore one desires
Ultramatic, tuff the stones of a sandy
panning area
Feldspar! Feldspar and Garnet!
then were are your tresures
Mr. Mica Schits Feldspar
Ore Miss
Mica Schits Feldspar
love is fond gold, to freely give
not subject to space nor time
treasure of the flowered 60’s
we foolishly squandered for a
mere nickle and dime….
I'm on the outside, looking In
Quite often I feel like the only word
in a poem that doesn't rhyme,
or I'm a nickle, five cents short
when I'm in need of a dime.
You make me feel like I don't belong.
Distress is written all over my face.
I'm the only wallflower at a dance.
The shy one in need of a hiding place.
I don't want to be the odd puzzle piece
that everyone overlooks and rejects.
I have a heart that's been wounded.
Your ostracism has crippling affects.
Nazi p0rn sent to warn, became the entertainment of a sick hand’s idle work,
Horror now, World Wide Web kicks,
A can down the street of innocence,
Prior to the wire,
and the background server’s hum,
Before the screens blinded minds,
The Bleeding digital infected our cities,
A true pandemic of addictive proportions; the day they switched the internet on…
By David Nickle Read
Normalise the teen
Seen slutty on your screen
Insta app’s the pimp
Youth attracted person
Sounds like feral yap
Bright colour’s brand sin
By history’s stone judge
The Black Cap atop his wig
For poisoners of innocence
By David Nickle Read
Stars shine every time
The moon beams its loving light
The moon smiles aglow
A teardrop lonesome
Without its world of eyes
The weeping crying tearing
In the name of a rose
What's in the name of a rose
Soft petals of confessions
I take time to write
My haikus so that a rose
May bloom in gardens of hearts
Penny Nickle dime
Soup and bread trying to fight
Nickel penny days
I have compassion
For this world eons old and
I have small foot prints
My passion for the rose
Is inexplicable true love
My heart is overwhelmed
Write me a haiku
I can use to brighten my path
Like a song to sing
Skinny skeleton sneaked out of the jack-o-lantern in record time.
I had already bet that he would; I had bet my cousin a shiny new dime.
You didn’t put him in there tightly enough, my cousin accused me.
I was not about to give him any leeway at the hallow tree.
I collected the dime and boasted to all about it that Hallows Eve.
I put on my witch costume, and I turned up my hat and one sleeve.
Others followed me to the ice cream store, where a cone was a nickle.
Unfortunately, it was three friends, so now I was in a bit of a pickle.
I look in the mirror
And imagine what I could be.
I picture a crown without tears.
I see silver veins coursing through me.
Refined gold is what I bleed.
My tears are titanium.
I eat copper like wheat.
Yumm radium.
Iron and Steel are sweet.
I like my Cobolt well done.
Aluminum is always a treat.
But the nickle and magnesium,
are as tender as concrete.
Heavy metals make you dumb.
Arsenic, Gold, Plumbum.
Those metals take from the dome.
Why not try nickle, iron, or chrome?
Chlorine, sulfur, and radon will take away your breath.
Carbon, nitrogen, and hydrogen can make meth.
While mercury, zinc, and copper were known to the boomers,
lithium, silicon, and titanium were just late bloomers.
I know that poetry
is not everyone's bag
(dime or nickle);
and its taste
makes many gag;
and the labor
intense as it must be
certainly not for those
who lag –
but for the poet
while most often
not his bread-and-butter
he senses God, somehow
a complicit Brother
closer His heart
and Spirit Divine
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