Emirati Glitterati…sold their soul
All for an arty farty party so dull
Each troll got a very simple goal
Going for gold their Faustian role
Befriend astro knoll on pretend atoll
Look at me vanity but never a lull
Narcissist fantasy look like a doll
Maybe botox detox don't annul
Tax free captivity in goldfish bowl
Not like before well war takes its toll
Rakes get the shakes out of control
Save me plea on every single scroll
Fakes & flakes on the make must cull
Hard not to laugh at whole rigmarole
Tragic they chose their Arabic hellhole
Goodbye to Dubai magic back to Hull
Mull over becoming a prole on the dole
If there was a poll would say Tres Drole
Or on insular influencer peninsula "LOL"
Wyandotte Indians
the peninsula dwellers
Iroquois speaking
their sign is turtle
the world was created
on the turtles back
Just a collection of mental health stuff.
The hopeless, random fidgets and calendars.
And when you live in Michigan?
You feel like running to the upper peninsula sometimes!
Taking all that stuff.
Or leaving it all as if it’s a pile.
Mental health is one of those…
Dadada, blah things.
Decrepit and odd.
Takes you back to childhood or nothinghood.
Takes you to Indiana in a dissociative episode that no one talks about.
Takes you back like someone took the wrong luggage.
I still have a random stress ball over there.
And when you live in Michigan?
You can’t lose.
So stress balls sit on my desk.
Like decor but also distressing.
Just a collection of mental health stuff.
I could put it in a box.
But it all got wrecked like a car accident,
Except not exactly.
I’m just a girl who lives in Michigan.
For some reason.
A crinkled shore on the Upper Peninsula.
We are hunting Golden Eagles
cameras at the ready.
You find a small stone.
On its surface, a
crimp and cockle depiction
of wind and waves
has rucked up an impression
of an eagle in flight.
"Just water-wear."
I say.
You throw it back into Lake Huron,
won’t hold my hand,
won’t even look at me,
until I admit the possibility
of divinely inspired crinkles.
From East to West
let my servant's trumpet
announce this victory
over those who defied me;
no Greek dares to fight me:
I am their uttermost deity!
They named me Zeus
and look to me for guidance,
I carry the thunderbolt
and I strike all enemies with vengeance;
they fell by the dozen
in the battlefield below Athens,
the ones who survived will challenge me again:
a huge temple can be destroyed and be rebuilt
in a year or less, not a life of a warrior
whose voice can be silenced by a spear!
On the Mount of Olympus
I'm watchful of conspirers,
I've sent Ulysess on a journey
he will land on the peninsula of Italy,
it's his second home more prosperous
than Greece, there Greeks will colonize
and build temples to deities in valleys
to withstand weather and time!
They named me Zeus
and I ride the golden chariot,
Greek women bow down,
Greek men shout and fight;
I instill in them valor and grit,
and they'll persevere in their quest:
win or die, victory or loss
are carried inside until they have won!
A parallel universe, intricately crafted by God-
A realm where the rhythm of existence is inverted:
One day devoted for diligent work and six for rest.
Here, perpetual, invisible threads unite us all,
Insulating a peninsula from the chaotic hodge.
Ten mile peninsula in Queens, N.Y.,
nighttime jetties of moonlight white caps,
waves rising and ebbing.
My grandfather walking with me on the
daylight shore so many summers ago.
My dreams of Rockaway unfaded.
Watched the WTC twin towers being built
through binoculars.
Rockaway, in my soul's nostalgia
you still beckon.
Salted lips quenched by Coca-Cola.
The youth within me can still hear
the seagulls calling in the breeze,
and still see the amusement park
under 4th of July fireworks.
Dada, I miss you and Rockaway.
flippant great white was turned into a peninsula by Poseidon.
others protested on her behalf, but she was happy about it;
now she would be immortal
people would visit her for centuries.
her relatives faded away, or died one at a time.
she remains Shark Rock, a favorite of children.
The Russo Ukranian War dates back to 2014, with the invasion of the Crimean peninsula and the Donbas War
which was fought by Pro Russian separatists in the eastern half of Ukraine.
This has been going on for a long time, even before Russia launched it's 2022 offensive on Ukraine, when everyone in the US began to show it's Pro Ukrainian support.
Putin has denied that The Ukraine was ever it's own
country. He has said that the land is not theirs, but was a part of Russia that was given away by Khrushchev and Lenin. It was a part of Russia, in the 18th century, also referred to as in Russian "New Russia".
This Ultranationalism that Russia exercises today
is not good for the future, it's been estimated that
hundreds of thousands have died in this bloody
conquest for land. I don't know if it will end anytime
soon. I doubt it. I don't think a leader like Putin would
do such a thing, seeing how he has turned the Russian Presidency into something like a dictatorship.
Look how he has kept his power and then you will
realize that this war won't be the last of him.
that old olive tree
over sixteen hundreds years
what a lovely tree!
In Salento peninsula which is part of Puglia, Italy. One of its names is Hug Tree.
Angelic in beauty
also in sound
flowing over tarnished rocks
carefree in the Lost world
known as the Upper Peninsula
tourist come from other states
just to explore, hike and sightsee
they're splendid beauty
A living, breathing source of
Love-flamy light.
For what does each, in the heart
Stir up at night.
Though down in roads' sea-rolled view
Drunken, fogged most
Peninsula-prominent.
Safe helmsman boast.
Visualize Mexico’s Baja Peninsula
Let’s take a camel safari in Cabo San Lucas
We will hop on a hump
Might see pods of dolphins and whales
While we are on our leisurely stroll
for camels do not run, they walk.
Giving us more time to enjoy the beautiful Pacific Ocean
I once visited an old copper town
in the upper peninsula of Michigan.
The U.P. as the Yoopers say
And on the U.P. it winters from
October to April’s end
where saloons and
vacant churches pock each
devoutly sodden block with
a piss-penny for your thoughts.
The hay was made there
in the 1890’s, bronzed and
plaqued in a shag-city square
gray beyond grief
-faced for no reason
it remembers.
It is a compelling obscurity.
that I will visit
again, one day
when I have
less to lose and
more to forget.
There the parking meters
stand away from the curbs
by big brick hollows,
beyond the plow’s carve
so high must pile
the insulating snow.
Pink and blue sunset, gorgeous
before Ian takes a toll. Silhouette
of tropical palms in Ponte Vedra.
The angst in Southwest peninsula
is more dire. Land exposed, meaning
the surf’s sharpening her sword.
Disneyworld is closed. The Mouses,
Mickey and Minnie, hunkered down.
Are the gators taking sides or bets?
Grandma, cousin, friend - all the same
person waits for the surge, and for the
resurgence to come from off the storm.
Some weeks are wait-and-see. Plans
could change, pandemically.
Pink and blue sunset, gorgeous.
9/28/2022
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