Donald John Trump, meet Percy Bysshe Shelley
You might have missed him since he's not there on your telly
He shows up in one of those things you held up in your hand
They're better read right side up than at Lafayette's last stand
Now Percy's man no longer stands 'cept in imagination
But what he stood up strong and tall befitting of his station
Is left in its inscription that you might do well to study
Like the writing on the wall where feet of clay turned muddy
Mistaking feats that magnify for feet that fate can't glorify
Leaves features that ironically will serve naught but to horrify
Historians and poets, even patronizing patriots
Even zealots, fans, and delegates won't help you dignify
newest newt named neat nellie neely
outrageously ostracized obvious oldies
patronizing patriarchal preening plebes
quietly quizzing querulous quacking quails
rambunctiously relaying rancid rumors
securing secretive slivers of silly suggestions
A petite yet sinewy muscle, exuding charisma,
A citadel of expression, tenacious in awe.
Its tentacles sting with a vindictive jest,
While cavernous blooms cradle the nectar’s quest.
Cobblestoned emotions jade my mental slate,
As chronicles surface, vivid and up to date.
A fragile form, each breath a whispered plea,
Cracked like ice beneath a trembling sea.
Nervous breakdowns drown me by the shore;
Patronizing gazes weigh heavily on my core.
A colossal trial looms, plunging me into chiaroscuro gloom,
Echoing the spectral whispers of Annabelle's forsaken room.
Whiffs of solace levitate from amma's lap,
A delicate darling, like rose dew on morning's nap.
Yet, from heaven's soft veil, a Messiah descends,
Bestowing wisdom, like a balm that mends.
A cooing whisper: “Confidence is the finest accessory one can wear,”
Infusing my fragile spirit, quelling mayhem with flair.
A garment forged by time, self, and panache,
Glinting like sapphires in the esoteric cache.
For fear ravages the dungeon’s shadowed depths,
Shattering armor, leaving it fractured, bereft.
Magnetic words defy gravity’s law—
A candle in the rain, my flame untouched, in thaw.
May, June, July, new Presidents and Prime
Ministers elected world-wide,
Politicians, crossing the floor, patronizing
The other side,
Finally striving for what we all hope,
Peace and unity,
But the yellow canary haired man has for
Years acted with impunity.
Could a Utopia exist in these
Chaotic times.
Kamala is hot on his heels for in two months
All will be said and done,
Will democracy hear the bells chime,
As the poll numbers rise which would
Be first prize,
As Humpty Dumpty loses his
Landslide win,
And Democracy walks away with
A grin,
As the aged wann-a-be President’s
Predictions wear thin.
OR
Will this man actually come to pass,
Destiny is in the making,
Winner takes and will have a worldwide
Platform for the taking,
The East it seems have with him
Become somewhat chummy,
Quite a risk don’t you think, but all will
Soon be revealed honey.
Awestruck
My pellucid teddy had been left in the kitchen overnight
someone had scratched its eyes off
The eyes had been dark green buttons taken from
a nazi uniform that had belonged to my uncle, who joined
the Hitler army to fight the Russian communists.
My mother, the communist, didn’t care for her brother
1945, he was declared missing in action, therefore, not
stated as dead; had he been around now, he would have
been 120 old and admired for fighting the Russians
How we, in the West, love hating them and also when
Yeltsin was in power, patronizing them because we covertly
think they are stupid.
The cat coming in from the terrace jumped up on my lap
yawned; her night had been busy.
“Love is not patronizing and charity isn't about pity, it is about love. Charity and love are the same -- with charity you give love, so don't just give money but reach out your hand instead.” – Mother Teresa
Charity
at Christmastime
hardly
ends the season.
It continues with
enduring
goodwill,
elevates
caring,
amity.
Celebrate
humility from
simple gestures of our
love
for one another.
Wedding in Paris
Coming out of the church after the wedding
smiles and cameras clicked.
From the steps, I saw a tramp in the park looking for
something to eat
he found a half slice of a pizza.
With all the clatter going on, I slipped away
had a whisky in the nearby bar.
I saw the tramp coming out of the park my idea
was to give him money.
I was self-conscious, hated the thought
of looking patronizing, so I had another whisky
Before joining the wedding party.
"I Shall A Mighty Hunter Be!"
“I shall a mighty hunter be,
The King of Kills, by God’s decree!
Savannahs always guarantee
a vantage camouflaging me.
I’ll lie in wait with sharpened claws
… until her keys unlock our doors!
My human’s finished many chores,
including patronizing stores
for meals to place inside my bowl.
Meow! Dispense the chicken whole!
Provide the victuals! That’s your goal!
Prepare some veal, pâte´, and sole …
Since after feasts I sleep a lot,
I found myself the perfect spot
to dream of feather wands and plot
to catch that fast, red laser dot!”
- - E. V. Wyler - -
Close to a scandalous ten thousand,
A reproach to the late Reverend Townsend;
All with their advertising megaphones,
And big dreams-nursing microphones …
In my town of domicile
With odds one can’t reconcile
Which I had some time walked miles
With my job-hunting files
That rather handed me victorious counts
Of how their number mounts:
I tell you: A Religious Harassment,
An unendurable embarrassment;
Ten thousand, really a killing figure
For a town wielding not the circumference of Cairo
And herself not lending to vigour
Definable with honest biro …
I still maintain: gong hollowed-out halls,
No Rock Musician would try for his frenzied falls;
A good many of them: a late traveler’s tent,
Whose thanksgivings broadcast Satan’s intent …
Never could be God’s umbrella,
For the catholic Emmanuel and Emmanuella;
Nor altars for demonic exits
From Christ’s patronizing visits …
Christ’s salvation current;
Is unthinkable in rooms of high rent!
Dear Jerry,
The way you talk down to me is amazing
I am obviously simple, so truly deserve it.
You are surely not this patronizing with everyone.
Just your wives and your children who do not know better.
I never understood before why you have had six wives.
Your courting ways are remarkable. You are a terrific date.
Paying for fancy dinners, and luxurious vacations.
I did not realize it was money your children could have had.
Now that I see you clearly, I feel I must release you.
Give you back to your parents who raised you
To only think of one person.
I hope they allow you to come back.
And will not hold grudges like your horrible ex-wives do.
Feel free to lose my number and my address
as you have pretended to lose your ex-wives' numbers.
I am relieved that I do not have to ask you for child support.
Thank you for never wanting children with me.
I guess six was enough for you.
Sincerely,
Your Ex-Wife who is No Doubt Joining the Horrible Club
My dead eyes can see through your blatant lies.
They are no longer affected by your wolf cries.
My dead eyes can read your mind,
your facade no longer works ,
There's nothing worthful in you for me to find.
My dead eyes can see pain,
they have just learned to refrain.
your love is the source of my agony,
your promises is a bunch of cacophony.
My dead eyes were once alive,
you took away their strength to survive.
your smile is so mesmerizing,
I can't endure your patronizing.
My dead eyes have seen it all,
they are now strong enough to face any squall.
My dead eyes speak only truth,
all I can feel for you now is ruth.
An illumination one can’t achieve the marvelous with,
Its 384400 kilometer distancing not a myth.
Never a lantern for any length of night study,
The printed in books a blur like the cloudy.
Readers’ eyes laboriously tackle their deciphering business,
Always seeming to need another helpful pair and witness…
Trust me, a crazy conspiracy against the optical
That should the readers earn crazy names or the atypical,
For having wanted to the innocent pair impair before forty;
No honest sympathizer who wouldn’t be naughty…
Still, in solidarity Moonlight is with the eyes
For all infuriating contacts with the injurious:
To the darkest of Nights, its improving flame
That us enables to ascertain the spurious.
Moonlight is God’s personal approval of our patrols at night
Which does the business make airily light,
Patronizing man’s nocturnal romances on grassland
That could him in Heaven or in Hell land.
Old as in a TV program
I watched a TV program set in an older people home
there was a murder with a pillow done by a nurse who stole
valuable items from the week and feeble patience.
Well, our detective solved the case and the owner of the home
was in this foul deed he sold the stolen items.
So far, so good, what I disliked was the patient killed was
eighty years old as was the other at this home.
For the first time in my life, I realized I was one of them
and I got suspicious are people at supermarket patronizing
I, when I make my feeble jokes, does the waiter at the cafe
serves me first in case I get elderly grumpy.
Can I trust that people speak to me as an equal and no someone
they have agreed within a concern of my age.
Are my opinions dismissed as an older man´s prattle?
I can´t bear the thought of being patronized by anyone except
my wife, she has always thought I´m mad.
I have no friends. All I can do is talking to myself.
SASSY MY LABBY
Mom and Dad always teach me new
Words, I know many,
They are loving and enterprising,
I’ve heard the names of only family
At the dinner table this
Christmas, hope it will be mesmerizing,
Thank goodness I get tit-bits
During cooking preparations, the aroma of
The turkey as it cooks is totally tantalizing,
I’m not just a doggy, mom and dad say
I’m clever, tell the family please,
Sometimes they are so patronizing,
Can’t wait, I’m excited, heard them talk
About Santa, a new ball, a rubber chicken and
A squeaky toy, waiting for Christmas Eve is
AGONIZING,
I hear them talking about God and above,
So on Christmas Day, will give them
Extra servings of love!
Entering in: “Your Favorite Animal Contest”
Sponsored By: Gregory Paul
We are virtually interconnected
Yet socially disconnect to our demise
Modernity rewards ignorance
The ignorant condemn the wise
We’re a society addicted to addictions
Hungry for knowledge that’s void of proof
Confirmation bias is perplexing and pervasive
Paradoxically – leaving us disinterested in The Truth
We are over fed yet starving for nourishment
We’re uncertain full of absolutes and certainties
Content - yet unhappy with our status
No one can help us - only you can set you free
We express our humility through patronizing arrogance
We want change, but don’t want to change anything
We seek perpetual self-satisfaction
Only to suffer incessant pain
We give the perception of fame and fortune
Ironically longing for self-worth and prestige
The emptiness of self-admiration
Unaware – you hold your key
Embody the dreams of your passions
The passions will live in your dreams
Life is simply all that we make it
That’s it –
This life – is up to me
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