In a world increasingly reduced
To postures of virtue signaling
It’s easy to side with the vocal majority
Crying real tears, gnashing whitened teeth.
But despite the emotional appeal
Of whatever we’re confirmationally biased towards,
Real issues exist in real time
Needing to be judged on real pros and cons.
History after all doesn’t exactly repeat itself
As much as spiral around a central core
Of habitual patterns
And stubbornly persistent delusions.
The next time you feel
The tug of collective empathy pull
Don’t just look at the banner
Look at the hand that holds it too.
(9/4/25)
New Zealand is more progressive and fair than most nations
in 1893, she was the first country to give women the right to vote.
a right that makes sense in every country except America.
where your vote might never count,
until the electoral college is abolished.
an archaic system that ensures the wealthy get more say
New Zealand looks better than ever these days.
a democracy is so much more appealing than a republic.
Preening, posing, mouths always in motion
jabbing your fingers high in the air
Shouting and yelling, and screaming an ocean
of high-intensity rubbish and verbal warfare
O, progressive politicians, you make my day
you never let fiscal reality get in your way
You cut dashing figures in your pin-striped suits ~
as your 'tax-base' you fleece and you loot
If the Progressive American Re-set Plan
is absent God,
the God of truth, hope, forgiveness,
love, joy, peace, and kindness;
The God of the Holy Bible
and our one nation
granting rights making order viable,
covenanting with our Constitution:
Only hearts obeying Godliness
protect our rights from Godlessness.
Absent God, their Re-set Plan
destines America to darkness.
Authoritarians, dictatorial rulers
designing this plan is tyranny.
Anti-Americans of Godless persuasions
invite tyrants to power: the State is their deity.
Letter to Sharon
You were a dancing queen,
a random unicyclist,
an overeducated ‘dark thinker’.
You were resourceful and independent,
a stubborn fighter,
a fanciful prize.
Why did you leave?
I miss you.
05 July 2021
P-rogressive
A-uthor's
T-errific
R-egard
I-s
C-omposed
I-n
A-crostic
M-essage
A-s
E-xcellent
C-onnotation
A-bout
M-agnificent
E-xpression's
R-apture
I-s
N-icely
O-ffered
Topic: Birthday of Patricia Mae Camerino (October 25)
Form: Vertical Monocrostic
Choose The Least Evil
Insanity Once Again
Change Never Happens
P-rogressive
H-umans
B-ring
W-ealth
O-ffering
R-esource's
X factor
Form: Vertical Monocrostic
Walking down streets paved in blue-tinted bricks,
Past shuttered-up shops and rust-covered picks.
Mums push their prams, faces heavy with doubt,
Eyes on the pavement, just trying to tough it out.
Charity stores sell the rich people's wares—
Cast-offs in corners, dreams sold in pairs.
Old factories smashed, turned to homes overnight,
Yet asbestos still whispers its long toxic bite.
Fathers now gone, lost to cancers and means,
Their stories forgotten in capitalist schemes.
Schools overflowing with tongues from afar,
Kids dreaming in dialects under the same star.
The great British dream lies torn up in tatters,
Drowned in false promises spilling from chatters.
By ministers blind to the mess that they’ve spun,
Still chasing their “progress” while we come undone.
He is screaming from his soapbox again.
His voice carries heavily through the air,
like a cloud of sulfur, soot, and disrepute.
He is old and he is fuming,
and he must do what old folks
do best, other than croak.
He must yell at the lost souls
of the newest generation
of degenerates and sinners
who will all surely burn in hell,
who will die writhing in agony,
and none of whom give even half a ****.
He may not even know the source of his
vitriol, but goddamn it, its there,
and he is going to spew it everywhere.
These are not opinions. There will be no discussion.
Our own soapboxes will remain unused.
Our politics all silent and subdued.
We do not want to make a scene.
On the energy waves of the eons,
Of lyric and line ever-forming,
One is injected, transported,
With all vibrations bursting
Through the human heart and mind,
The jolting edge of innovation
And every positive passion.
Even the cynic or child may sense,
When riding such a current,
The power native to humanity.
Synapses now malfunctioning
Cannot forever thwart their charge.
Mankind has the voltage needed
To mobilize all the connectors.
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