we climbed a barbed wire farm fence
falling into brambles that scratched us up
suddenly we were in a meadow
with tiny wild strawberries, daisies, violets, iris and queen anne’s lace
we’ll take it, we told the realtor
a Shangri-la which we still love
in crystal vintage goblet hid a cautious rat
someone whispered what was that? what was that?
the old realtor stopped. she had not heard.
rat resolved to say not another word.
they’re getting closer, said the rat’s little wife.
she liked to give rat a bit of strife.
humans left without buying the for-sale house
not this one said the wife; I know I smelled a mouse.
From a loud-mouth, world’s cease-fire arranger
To desperate man as if in manger,
Who when naught was rendered,
Panned, having surrendered,
And what is worse than that,
For a rival to bat,
Dubbed as salesman and Putin’s messenger!
_____________________________
Happenings | 37.08.2025 | USA, humour
Note: Meeting between Trump and Putin in Alaska. Boasts galore and no more boats to reach the coast across! Putin conceded little, trump ceded his boasts, reduced from being a realtor president to a salesman and messenger to relay Russian terms to EU and Ukraine. But the deal maker that he is, Trump might still get Russian oil to flow in the world easing prices, access rare earths from Ukraine, and his coveted Nobel peace prize.
Have you looked at the purple house down by the bay?
It is the one with green shutters, a shabby gray.
A terrific value, says that realtor, Mrs. Dray.
She would know and she always has her say.
Okay, then, here’s another idea said May.
Why don’t you buy a home over in Bray?
It’s a cheaper town, I hear people say.
It is a heck of a value, I was told yesterday.
You need a loan? I wish there was some way.
But all of my money is maxed out, said Lay.
Wish I did not have to go, but I cannot stay
For some imbecile is now towing my car away
Watch, Trump’s on hunt on Gaza front--
Battlefront turns to waterfront,
For the land all of rocks
Let me think out of box…
In place filled with craters
Ah casino caters,
Like Panama, Greenland,
Mexico, our northland,
Think, ideas I have abundant.
___________________
Happenings |17.02.2025| USA, Political, humour
Note: Trump may be a president, but he also is a realtor.
Who is Karen?
Or what is she to cheer?
Is she a mother, or a friend, or a whisper in the wind?
She is the realtor ,the banker,
In the courtroom as a thinker.
She is the teacher, that cares, the politician, that fares .
The voice the hurts my ears.
The terror that brings us to tears.
The electricity that flows through the chair..
Question her if you dare.
These cold but, hard stares
For these are the truths that I share….
For the world is a product of the insecurities that she
wears….
Marriages to flames ,in exchange for her fame, shallow as a feather, yet we are to blame.
For the world she has shamed.
The false mother has come, the devil in a dress , yet hero to some….
Swift as it will come, we will not see, for she is the nectar that poisoned the tree…
* Just a note to mention that I posted a blog regarding the final results of testing for toxins from the Ohio Train Derailment that I have been writing about.
They found numerous chemicals including up to 20 dioxins in the soil here and matches to the chemicals that were on the train in the Ohio Derailment. More analysis is being done before it may be included in their news updates on the news.
I knew it had sickened me here with the snow March 1st and all the wildlife changes etc, but the amount of chemicals is shocking.
A lot to figure out now. Dioxins are the worst you can find and cannot be broken down or removed. My old realtor says the property cannot be sold as usual due to all the serious toxins.
The phenol benzene that was detected on my tree also causes stomach and esophagus issues, low red cell count, all that I have now.
The dioxins cause skin lesions and I am dealing with those with infection now too. The health issues go fast and what is happening in nature with the trees lately is so fast too.
I am working hard at lots of leads for this situation. Thank you to those bearing with it and supporting my poetry even when my muse is gone.
gingerbread cottage was waiting for the right family
their kids were too loud
there was no discipline
this was not happening
she showed them her meanness
this family ran out screaming
why are you so picky? realtor asked after they had left
next couple was too old, stodgy, set in their ways
she was irritated that they were still alive, let alone looking at houses
gave the wife chills up the back of her neck
I am never going to sell you! lamented the realtor
gingerbread finally found a couple she liked
she thought she could tolerate them
they were giggling and fun
unfortunately, they set a fire in her closet
She keeps a loaded *****
in her shoulder bag.
She once found an unused finger
and has been thrusting it
at hapless men ever since.
She loves TMZ and Nancy Grace.
She sells space to celebrities
and their attorneys.
She harangues her cosmetologists
probing for their facial weaknesses.
She carries a Pekinese with diamonds.
She is a mother of cloud-children
that live on the outskirts
of her other interests.
She diets on crustaceans and couscous.
Her soft parts are pummeled
into snapping turtles.
While I was away,
her hard buttocks came to visit.
they left a card that said:
Your home has been remodeled
to suit a better class of person.
You need to downsize immediately,
contact my office
for further instructions.
I approached the authorities -
they just shrugged.
A muddy floor
a creaky door
The paint is peeling
two gaps in the ceiling
The grass is brown
tree branches down
Fence gate's rusty
furniture's dusty
Windows don't close
electric wires exposed
Fuses constantly blow
the fridge is not cold
Realtor held an open house 'as-is'
Not one offer ~ That's 'show-biz'
The realtor ushered us up the cracked sidewalk,
Paint peeling from the clapboards
Revealed a rainbow of colors in the cracks.
Like a geologist who looks at canyon walls
And sees the ebb and flow of oceans writ large,
We could chart the house’s history
In the dusty rose and drab olive paint layers.
We entered through the loose-handled
Squeaky-hinged door.
Age had faded the carpet and worn
The tread of the stair,
Desolation rattled the glass in the window
Then worked its cold autumn bite into the rooms.
We were invited into the kitchen, where
Surrounded by hot pads
Put together by young fingers,
Were freshly baked chocolate chip cookies
Carefully arranged on a simple white plate.
The well-polished white oven clicked
As it cooled.
A framed needlepoint announced,
“This is Mom’s kitchen, where hugs are free.”
This is the place we adopted,
This is home.
First breath
gold dust sunflower
augmented realtor
baby ghost promises
warm data zeal
Eerie parlor music squeaks out over the musty floral rug
No human people have been in here for a long time
The organ has lost some keys; which gives a weird sound
The ghosts in the attic cringe, remembering better days.
Once a showplace, the house is overrun by vermin now.
Skittering and scampering across the floor is commonplace.
Mice have nests in the rug, and in the long-forgotten divan.
Tiny streams of light come through the holes in the paper blinds.
Owners of this house have allowed it to die an unnatural death.
Urine smells keep the riffraff out; including a mother opossum.
It is the place where halfhearted spiders go to die.
Not haunted, yet, full of unhappy memories.
Why the organ plays herself, none of us know.
We wait in the shadows, willing a human to come forth.
Hoping they will somehow fix her up, making her fresh and new.
A man attempts to peek into the windows.
The organ ceases its dirge-like play.
We animals skitter into the darkest shadows.
A surprise for a realtor on this holiest of days.
Halloween, a day for crazed visitors.
Seems appropriate that he wears a mask.
Of our ‘95 batch Amir Khan
Chocolate hero Taluka Pan
Sweetest boy and co-star mine
In dramas we acted then fine
Drama, skit or play those days
Possible with Vilas and Sajid always
Such a fabulous superb lad
Always there to make me glad
Fun quarrel play and games
We shared in full flames
Still I’m his fan flawsome
For he’s more than wowsome
Now busy as a Realtor
And as an Easy Service Provider..!!
We was tired and hungry on a winter's day
They sent their realtor down to try and drive us away
We was sittin ducks for the cable man
I found my wife digging through a garbage bag
And I'm alone
Loading my trailer
Wondering if I am
Dead or Alive
Broken up, dirty and dressed in rags
From the day our realtor told us pack your bags
I sent my wife to Lowe's in her little truck
She called me up and said you outta luck
And I'm alone
Emptying my trailer
Wondering if I am
Dead or Alive
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