Some Say The Politicians Are all the same
Six of one , half a dozen of the next.
All controlled by the hierarchy, the illuminati.
I feel they have a point to some extent.
But still I beg to disagree.
For Some have more bad mind that others,
Some are more lie, more dangerous, more corrupt, more selfish.
Some are more tief. Some are like Gangrene.
Some are Evil Himself Satan incarnate. Soo Soo Devious.
While some make an effort, some do try.
Some will ignore the poor more.
We still should be willing to make a choice.
I just do not and cannot agree with the skeptics who claim
The System will never change.
Refuse to accept such a defeatist mentality.
Still Growing
seventy-three and one-half years young
can’t forget the half-don’t want to appear
younger than I actually am
seems like yesterday I was living in
a foster home and working on the farm
and that was fifty-six years ago
my biggest regret was all the
potential friendships I destroyed
because I was an angry person. I
came from a dysfunctional home
where every form of abuse was acceptable
I had PTSD of a sort so the shrink said
which stunted my social skills
my biggest triumph was accepting
Jesus has my savior. I have slowly learned
to forgive others and just as importantly myself
it has been a life long process and my transformation
is not totally finished but I am better than I was.
Now I have very few friends from the past but am
making some new ones while treating people with
respect.
Being content with the way things are is a
wonderful feeling.
I like when days are shorter,
Though I know most won’t agree,
But getting out before the sunrise
Seems just right to me.
On winter days I read in bed
Before I venture out.
Yet now, with just one chapter,
There’s a bright blue sky, no doubt.
I miss the oranges and pinks
That make the sky aglow.
It’s like having front row seats
For Nature’s early morning show.
The daylight hours stretch, as well,
So when it’s sunny-bright
At the dinner hour and beyond,
It doesn’t feel like night.
I much prefer the coziness
Of being tucked inside
When the afternoon is slowly
Starting on its evening slide.
Alas, my preferences take hold
For one-half of the year
And to the rules, I have no choice
But simply to adhere.
Losing the battle,
A mind full of rattle,
Yet there's no way out.
Half full of ambition,
Half seeking the vision,
Still, somehow aligned.
Thoughts stir in a pot,
While I sit in the same spot,
Can you turn down the heat? It's starting to burn.
One side aims to be superior,
The other thinks she's inferior,
Please, stop the contrast.
I can't keep up, I'm not that fast.
One half wants to be the best,
The other just craves rest,
Why must there be two hemispheres?
How can a child so calm, so wise,
Grow into chaos, truth in disguise?
The change was unforeseen,
As is the path of this young teen.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Persian Gulf, 3 A.M.
Black water cradles burning ships,
their hulls like supplicant hands raised~
oil laps the shore in crimson strips.
Tehran at Dawn
The muezzin's cry splits dawn in two~
one half prayer, half shrapnel's hymn.
The saffron fields drink rocket dew.
After the Ayatollah
The regime plants mines where his voice once grew,
harvesting fear from the dunes and sand.
The wind still chants his verses blue.
The house on the hill beckoned me
its lawn a page from Ripley’s Believe-it-or-not
One-half manicured like a five-star golf course
the other half a wasteland teeming with weeds and rot
Against my will, my feet led me up to its nearest edge
breathing in the nectar of monarchs on the wing above sludge…
The human skeleton standing in the doorway elicited my scream
his blood-stained orbs flashing a murderous gleam…
He buried me in an open-air grave
these words emblazoned on my headstone
~ Here lies my ‘White Slave’
Will I meet you at ninety
just two and one-half years away?
Will the time between now and then
help encourage me to stay
to gather more fine days beyond
and still share my old heart with love?
I'm doing my best each day.
A word to the wise should suffice
And shouldn’t need spouting it twice.
It really makes sense
Unless you are dense
To follow your own good advice.
In my case, it’s all about ears,
For an earring, at times, disappears.
So I purchased some backs
Which lets me then relax,
Since to lose one is one of my fears.
In my home, though, I sometimes forget,
For a lost one’s not much of a threat.
I’d not planned to go out
But I did and, no doubt,
You can guess why I’m feeling regret.
Yes, one half of the pair that I wore
Slipped away on the street or the floor.
Though I searched where I’d been
With no luck, my chagrin
Is about that advice even more.
need coffee
even though decaf
one-half cup
gets me up
old age causes adjustments
in lifestyle to be made
when death comes
it hurts to the core
emptiness
loneliness
they arrive each day, linger
thoughts to share pop-up
coffee's jolt
can't heal depth of pain
time can heal
or so said
healing does need to happen
where life can go on
how long, long
how long will it take
woodpecker's
tapping sounds
distracts temporarily
tears return, grief flows
An art that’s pale
and passing frail,
a phantom, lacking form:
the trellis rose
already knows
it won’t withstand the storm.
When afternoon
reveals the moon,
a frisson frets the bower:
the sun shifts round,
the banquet’s drowned
by shadows of the tower.
Though we be dust,
create we must,
albeit for an hour
and all our toil
will surely spoil,
so readily devoured.
One half creates,
one half predates
– the universal norm:
so what remains,
but petal stains?
the imperative to perform!
Faintly the church bell tolls
On the hour, faintly she sighs
She cries out to the Lord
About the how's and whys
She's a women
(Some say she is scorned)
Most don't see the women I see
A lover with love she's adorned
She can smile in the sun
And hide in the moon
But when she has a sad
I feel our hearts rhythm in tune
She's not a ragdoll
Even if it is for a laugh
I know b'cuz of two hearts twain
She is one half
I look at her and think, you
Can take the old and mend'em new
A second hand heart makes do
(With all she's been through)
The sky was draped in night’s black cloak,
With a sprinkle of white specks in bloom.
The yellow moon slipped into a gibbous cocoon,
As sunshine fretted in crescent-shaped kites.
But the streets today were painted in bright colours—
They cloaked the rainbow in a toga of envy.
Many danced and sang in melodious harmony,
Dressed like masquerades with neither masks nor veils.
The clouds were clear and gleamed with a faint glow,
Since the last drop of rain they’d stored was in October.
It was the music, played on hand-held instruments,
That shook off harmattan’s dryness from trees and grasses.
"This carnival is like no other,"
A lady in red and white whispered to her husband.
They, like many others, had traveled from far and wide,
To sway their hips and jiggle their feet to Motherland Africa.
The hordes of strange faces mingled with local ones—
Each year, new loves are sparked, and babies are born.
Many a mulatto grows with one half of their roots in photos,
Yet every year brings memories sweet and strong.
“Handmaid of Patriarchy”
the garden rezoned
Embattled virility
misogyny cloned
As Delilah revolts
a new Samson on scene
One half of the whole
left to drown in the stream
Each genders new quotient
to minus the plus
A He without Her
— the destruction of us
(Saint David’s Pennsylvania: May, 2025)
Proofs!!!
I could never grasp proofs
they were too much for me
How could side-angle-side equal
prove that the hypotenuse squared
plus, the cosine of angle A equal
the square root of Pi?
How could (x+a)^n=?_(k=0)^n¦?(n¦k) x^k a^(n-k) ?
prove to be the same as
f(x)=a_0+?_(n=1)^8¦(a_n cos??npx/L?+b_n sin??npx/L? )
How could a squared plus b squared
equal the sine of angle abc if angle
cba was obtuse?
How could the right leg of an
isosceles triangle be equal
to the sum of two right angles?
If Jimmy had two ducks and I had
four turkeys, how do we get
three and one-half turduckens
between us?
Good thing I can count to ten, otherwise I
would really be lost!
This year’s gonna be lit, with next year even better.
The Bidens get the boot, bureaucrats get their letters.
Economy’s on a roll, Dow’s a record-setter.
The New Green Deal’s on hold, and Sandy’s sporting sweaters.
One half the country thinks that sanity’s returning;
the other’s on the brink of actions much concerning.
The DOE is gone, but kids are somehow learning;
Antifa’s back in town, blue cities are all burning.
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Goliardic verses are monorhyme in 13-syllable lines with pauses at 6 or 7 and feminine rhymes
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