The late-summer track runs blue with deep shade,
While cicadas rasp in sun-whitened trees;
And ask what secret lives inside the breeze,
You clasp my hand where sandy gullies fade.
I show the compass, by the years decayed,
Whose faithful needle leans, and never flees;
We watch the foam that feathers on the seas,
While on the shore our wandering steps are made.
You ask where north goes, in your small voice calm,
As though the world was just this morning born;
You spy a blue-tounged skink beneath a thorn,
And hold a broken shell within your palm.
The compass points its north through dusk and foam;
Your wondering hand points farther still—to home.
In the American wilds there are kings and
queens of the timberlands,
their pups born into a fraternity of royalty.
Crystal blue eyes shudder the dawn in
thick forests and open tundra.
Native American spirits in the elements
in all seasons,
in harmony with the wolves’ songs,
gently flowing eternally in the streams.
Oh, to run, run with their brethren of the
freedoms,
hunters and their prey churning up the
snow.
In the wilderness twilight they howl in
unison,
a woodland concert of the untamed neath
the ochre copper moon,
their breath exhaled in a frosty mist.
Whatever you do, please don’t kill my
wolves,
they are the sons and daughters of
nature’s magnificence.
So many have been felled and my heart
can’t bear hearing the roaring of the
rifles anymore,
Oh God, no!
Please don’t pierce their bodies,
their souls,
please, please don’t kill my wolves!
press-a-dent dump
called canada
one of the worst
countries
to deal with
in the world
well
no more trips
to the states
of
we take care
of our citizens
health and old age
THROUGH THE LAW
NOT BECAUSE OF WEALTH
OR A DUMB BELL IN CHARGE
press-a-dent dump
is an *******
and as the usa says
we're the best
no f---ing way man
i wouldn't live there
it stinks like hell
len
756.
Exaltation to Mary:
Queen of North America
Glory to God in the highest
For crowning Mama Mary among the rest
As Queen of North America & of the Universe
Queen of all North American Catholic/Universal believers
You are the Queen of North America – Home of the Largest Christian Population
North America – Home of USA, the World's Largest Christian Nation
God bless North America for having Mama Mary
Oh Universal Queen, to you also glory be.
Amen.
-11/26/2019
(Dumarao)
*Exaltation to Mary as Queen of the Universe
Labour party on the precipice pegging all hopes on Andy
Come forth the King of the North who’s more than handy
Begging voters with a new orifice in office sweet as candy
No self harmer Starmer karma so will be fine and dandy
Novice compared to Boris when it’s comes to being randy
Chequers not mecca for shady sort cohorts on the brandy
Burnham’s bid to get rid of the avarice & malice of Mandy
Andy no pinko champagne socialist working class shandy
The Mayor with flair and great hair becomes the grandee
Flashes those eyelashes an ego plea everyone look at me
Gooey cheese he does bestow like Barry Manilow’s Mandy
Don't tease Andy be a tandy & give muppet Farage a pandy
With new brand & a hand from Ed Milliband & Lisa Nandy
Free from company tyranny he’s not a puppet "Andy Pandy"?
Based on the behaviour
(bigoted intolerant prejudiced racist sexist)
of so many descendants
of those pioneers who crossed
the Mason–Dixon line
back in the day
demarcating the North from the South
in the good ol' U.S.A.
come rain or shine
I can believe
(with this empty bottle in front of me)
some of the settlers automatically
received a full frontal lobotomy
or if they did not
it's what they should have got
and strange but true
as a rule of thumb
the further north you go
the more southern it will become
Boreas, the North Wind
I am in Iceland, 90 miles from the Arctic Circle,
walking through a gorge in a valley between
European and North American plates. Fierce
Boreas funnels its headstrong wind right at me
tears my knit hat off my head, rakes my hair.
I’m in Rekjavik, at the city’s highest point
walking half-way between Hallgrimskirja Church
and Leif Eriksons’ statue when Boreas sends a gust
ripping glasses from my face. I chase them across
the square, miraculously retrieve them intact.
The is a land of extremes, powerful geysers,
roiling rivers, cascading waterfalls, high mountains,
floating icebergs, volcanoes, poised to erupt, lava
flows, one thermal Blue Lagoon, acres in size
defies frigid air, soothes sore muscles.
This is a land ruled by the North Wind Boreas, erratic,
hungry, sleeping rarely, it is terrifying, exhilarating,
raw as life itself.
Welcome to the far deep north.
Where you can see all seasons.
In twenty four hours everyday.
Winter starts at night from 6 pm to 1 am.
Cold Spring starts after midnight from 1 am to 10 pm.
Summer starts from 10 am to 1 pm.
Fall starts afternoon from 1 pm to 6 pm.
Seven lines poem. Inspired by Chantal Jarry.
Home before dark
I said
Forgot the midnight sun
I did
The I.C.E. Capades
Fern refuses to thaw Minnesota's ICEy glades
While three million pages expunge during harsh raids
Leering predatory smiles
at redacted Epstein files
Evidence held, elite absolved, absurd charades!
Although its reviews mixed and complementary
It was more a confusing than tenet documentary
Immigrant Melania
shipped back to Slovenia?
Away from the creepster Trump penitentiary
I'm thinking of a trip down south.
Ever meet a foreigner who's never seen snow?
I'll trade places with them any day.
AP: 3rd place 2026
Fog’s cleared, now think pink.
No snow,
however the show
will be
where I go.
Knee deep in cotton candy.
I will joyfully
kick up the flakes,
heaven’s sugar flakes
In the pink
with the Buffalo Bills.
Okay a footfall…shhhh
football ;)
I’m going kayaking to the North Sea
taking my pet wet seal with me
I will paddle my way through choppy ice
surviving on luxurious baked beans and rice
my pick axe will go to make ice bricks
I’ll teach wet seal to do great magic tricks
All I need is a kayak and a new pick axe
Tell me goodbye; don’t give me the facts
I am determined, that’s north, is it not?
Uh-oh the wet seal has a cold with horrible green snot
We are in no hurry, we can go another day
His face is turning sickly, a mean shade of dull gray.
it's its own
atmosphere
each orangelight
sans fire burns on what's
left of trees
on an abandoned block
the street is heard
brittle footsteps under
the lamp above that creaks,
moved
how just every
2 am walk alone, but
below it's still stone
to break glass —
is to break the very night
hollow, blind
dead
~ written on a winternight
Santa's wife said, "You've gained an inch!",
and gave his fat belly a pinch.
"The inches I want
are hard", she did taunt.
No wonder she's seeing The Grinch.
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