She's a ruffling tulip in stormy winds
Thunder builds up from within
She carries Kharkiv's weight on her wings
Time after time, her nation never wins
Scarlet skirt spreading against her legs
The village man sighs, about to trek
Horses rip through lands of silence
Barefoot, leaves crumble with eminence
Even the animals bark as they tremble
The markets catch fire; they become embers
She cries tears for each fallen man
Her flower crown falls to her hands
Ribbons fight the weather's wrath
For even her clothing wants to fight back
Windmills crack; their companion isn't there
Stolen by a filthy prince who heirs
Heart cooler than Siberia's forests
No regard for her, the poorest
Mountains kiss the horizon goodnight
For the battles drain them of light
Branches snap beneath her feet
Of the poor young woman, down by the Black Sea
Some One—to Hate—is useful—
When Kingdoms lose their Way—
They pass a Law—archaic—
And point the Crowd—to Prey—
A Statute—thin as Spider’s Thread—
Yet sharp enough—to bind—
The Small—the Poor—the Lawless—
The Unprotected—Mind—
For Power—loves a Spectacle—
A Name—to crucify—
So Multitudes—forget their Wounds—
While watching Someone—Die—
But One—once walked among the Dust—
With Sandals—torn and mild—
He kept his Company—with Thieves—
And spoke unto the Wild—
“Do you believe in Me?” they asked—
He answered—not with Rod—
But sat beside the Lawless Ones—
The Outcasts—near to God—
The Mentor—of the Poorest Breath—
Of Sinners—unafraid—
He broke the Bread with Those Condemned—
Whom Proper Courts—betrayed—
So when the World requires a Hate—
To quiet Fear—and Blame—
Remember—who the Teacher kept—
And whom the Mob—would name—
We are good at moaning watching what goes on and tut tuting,
Shout at politians on the box as if this is some movie we are watching,
Yet we dont act saying thats terrible nowt to do with us though,
And it all continues as before killing people with impunity,
By saying lies of ancient promises while burning down olive boughs,
Belief in a god justifying evil actions blamed on an mythic book,
Look hard and research to discern what is true,go on,look,
Listen not to wicked elite even the poorest utter words of right,
Out there alternative communities exist showing love and light,
Boycott all that is wrong come together as one,
Complaint without action has no validity whatsoever.
(c) andrew provan mcintyre 21/02/2026. 16:45 pm.
Our love for our resilient Haiti
Remains steadfastly unconditional.
Our love for this beloved country
Remains obviously emotional.
For a quarter of a century,
The others did not do too much,
For this yesteryear paradise island.
For more than a dozen years,
The incompetent and spurious leaders,
The opponents and the exiled ones
Also ruled this precious piece of land.
So far, no significant improvement…
Corruption, theft, piratry, poverty,
Kidnappings, death, mismanagement
Lies, excuses and misery …
This is not the hell that our forefathers died for…
I can tell you more, I can prove you more.
God Almighty, there is a constant and eternal search
For real leadership, unlike the bad ones
That we have had unfortunately over the last centuries.
We are tired of seeing Haiti among the poorest countries.
Our love for Haiti
Is sadly emotional.
Our love for this poverty stricken country
Remains simply unconditional.
Copyright© January 2010, Hebert Logerie, All Rights Reserved
Hébert Logerie is the author of several poetry books.
HUNGER’S AWARENESS BOAST
I have no boundaries,
And an unusual equanimity;
My equality is most extraordinary:-
The world over, there’s my shared pity;
Like death, I practice a weird democracy:-
Matters not to me, who and where you may be
I’m there in all cities, states, and every country:-
There will always be a luscious place for the old me;
I’ve survived in the best and the poorest family:-
I’m as old as time, and still here, ticking too:-
Y’all better get on to what you need to do;
I may soon be coming to visit with you:-
You may think this is all really funny,
But one day, you may cry with me:-
The poorest man is who sell his own soul to the devil for money.
there is no one this poet hate more than
those little ers with power in their hand
who would do nothing but sit back and watch
as the world continues to burn in the fire
there is no one this poet hate more than
those little ers with hands full of money
who sold their soul to build the empires
that run on the back of the poorest
there is no one this poet hate more than
those little ers who have everything
but choose the silence as a way to escape
while the planet continues to cry out for help
Sweet mother, I will never forget,
The pain you bore, the silent sweat.
When I was hungry, you found a way,
Even in darkness, you lit my day.
When the cold winds began to bite,
You wrapped me warm throughout the night.
When danger came like a roaring flame,
You stood ahead, and took the blame.
No riches you had, no gold or throne,
But your love made the poorest home.
Your hands were worn, your heart was wide,
You lived for me with wounded pride.
I have loved and lost in life's affair,
But none with love so true and rare.
Girlfriends may come, they may depart,
But no one holds a mother’s heart.
You prayed for me when I was weak,
You kissed my wounds before I’d speak.
You gave me life and gave me light,
You are my dawn, my star at night.
So here I write with humble pen,
A hymn to you again and again.
Sweet mother, your love won't sever—
I’ll cherish you, now and forever.
I’ve traveled the world by air and by sea
Seen what many aren’t privileged to see
From heinous acts of terror to country-wide starvation
From the richest of rich to the poorest of nations
Seen the beauty of a shoreline warmed by a red sun
A homing pigeon fly thousands of miles on his annual ‘home run’
Yet of all the sights I’ve seen, at the top stands just one
~ The candles in the chapel lit, evening service begun
Or better known as Mother Teresa, the Catholic nun who served the poor.
At the age of 12, I made the decision to devote my whole life to God.
I began as Saint Teresa of Calcutta, where I wholeheartedly provided care to the poorest of the poor and the sick.
Facing judgment and criticism
from all walks of life,
I founded the Missionaries of Charity in 1950. It became a beacon of hope for the poor, sick, and destitute, globally.
My faith has always been strong, but I have also struggled with doubt and uncertainty.
I prayed to God for years for guidance, asking Him to help me through the darkness that I felt was my cross to carry on earth.
In 1979, I was awarded the Nobel Peace Prize, but it belongs to the very people I served.
I quote:
“Yesterday is gone. Tomorrow has not yet come. We have only today. Let us begin.”
Signed: Beloved Saint of the people, Mother Teresa
Time/event: The Life and Legacy of Mother Teresa (1910-1997)
In the voice of: Mother Teresa
Why Would Anyone Buy A Tesla And A MAGA Hat
Why would anyone patronize Elon Muck?
Muck rode the coattails of his friend Donald Duck
Muck and Duck went up the hill
To serve us a bitter pill
Their fascism has left the country horror-struck
Muck's shaking of the tree, and kills the forest
His cleaning of the house affects the poorest
He's slashing a sword at regimes
And sending our country downstream
Muck pulls puppets strings, and Duck's the daffiest
connie pachecho
2/16/25
Bing informative
the SCHWA sound
become the topic of the day
Dipithong, Dipithong
ooh, ooh wee!
Schwa:schwa!
the Schwa sound
the schwa sound is destroying me.
T notch filters.
Try to spook the others
they used unsafe tactics
that caused people
to boo and jeer.
The Schaw sound
shall maketh him
smarter
then he will never be in need
of these types of Chanagans.
Speakest Lammbeeria the Whorish Harlot of Dikkinism
Larghissimo!!!!!
that he shall streess in labor and shall be
poorest in Dipipothong. His streesses shall cause him the error
such oppurtunies shall allow others to have me as I am a whore.
Than pregant I shall say to him.
You'didist and now you must largemente with money. If this is real and I have no secrets. Denounce me that we have prominated on the shores of the Creeks and the ponds have feed us with fishes.
Drought the earthen shell fish-pow'da-pow-da, pow--dah !!!!!
grind the snouts to pow-dah!!!
Spoke the whorish harlot!!!!
Professional editors and writers
sorted through the content.
They found Christmas as
the primary source for
both
thanksgiving and New Years.
they also found
that by allowing the poorest folk
to make money during this time of year
helps generate local economies.
Founded through the changes
and sorted through
the strains.
The Spews of Erebus
Our desire unites us
that our greed and ambitions
might be heard as prays
to a concerning and considerate God
Might the Spoils of discovery
find sceince as profitible
as it is interesting
they cheered and toasted him
not knowing what was before them. Said one
in full opposition of the others. He sheilded his
lanterns at night
might the greed of men
need light to undo there promises.
Gold makes even the sanist man satan
that the poorest of the poor
wish to be as wealthy as
he who pay's him;
must he be vain and willing to risk
it all to prosper.
Or shall God makest him humble enough
to be concerned and bless the
expedition that they might
all equally share ach fortune.
Doctor kestler Anartic Expedition
There is Environmental Protocol against mineral extraction in Antarctica
The story is of a bunch of time traveler willing to extract from the past to have a Profitable future.
They are faced witha Challenge from The Superfreinds.
She is one for the ages,
She graced a many a stage.
She is a Mother, She is a Saint
She is immortal, a miracle without restraint.
She draped herself in six yards of blue & white.
She gave her all, pulled all her might.
She said, these are the people of God,
She led towards upliftment, salvation, with her squad.
She roamed the street no one ventured,
She tamed the demons without any indenture.
She served among the poorest of poor,
She was the rarest of rare.
She knew no boundaries, borders didn’t restrict her,
She preached people before politics, others before self, in her edifier.
She with her diminutive figure, dulcet voice,
She with her passion & will, made the right noise.
She left this World a better place,
She left her indelible mark with grace.
She will be revered on Earth till existence.
She is immortal san question.
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