Local Knowledge,
Will always give you the edge,
On what bets to hedge,
Where best to plant a hedge,
Where not to dredge.
Ask a local and pay no fee,
Get the best info for free,
Even comes with a cup of tea,
And a garden in full bloom to see.
With local input,
You can increase your output,
With no no time out,
To hear the locals shout,
why were we not told about.
If you want long term profit,
Local knowledge will always be a better fit,
And save the need for a costly refit.
Best of all time for more golf will be a given,
So, why not give in,
Meet with the locals at their local Inn,
Put your original plan in the bin,
Giving logic time to settle in.
,
THE LAST OF EARTH
Earth has been taken prisoner, captive, under siege
By snake bankers, the wealthy with their filthy greed
By bomb makers, criminal politicians and all that breed
By soulless satanic demons in their profit-making creed.
God is watching the death of Earth, collecting all the waste
Into one big bundle to rid the earth of dead spirits in haste
Death is coming in self-inflicted ruin with an atomic taste
Revelation’s prophecies to be fulfilled under God’s sanctifying grace.
These are the last days of earth as we know it
Gone will be the dirt and sin, human ruin and all the other sh.t
Earth we will see rebloom again under a new found heavenly refit
New rules and life for man and earth according to God’s law will be writ.
The eternal goodness and abundance of God’s creation
Uncovered from the masking veil revealing bounty to every nation
Rivers purified, oceans sparkling, forests reborn in a new human-earth relation
Air glittering with sparkling light in a renewed sacred natural divine vocation.
Every day the mouse thinks of being sacrificed
And counts its days of life glottalized.
But the mouse is somewhat complacent
Cause the care of human is complaisant.
The D-day comes
The mouse realised crises
And exclaimed, Humans are so egotistical!
Perhaps more statistical.
While in eternal sleep the mouse pondered
Do human hearts have become cloistered?
Not all but some, indeed
They give hope, only to recede.
The mouse sacrificed its life for human benefit
Yet human brought another one as refit.
He is down for scheduled maintenance
for a minor refit and tweak
for all the words he has to speak.
Ghost must adjust new software.
Old bones given new clothes.
Shuffling poetry tuned tight to walk upright.
Night and day, cogs have been turning, turning,
mind oil has been burning,
now time has developed a crick in the neck.
However, he is doing fine.
The Muses and their staff
will get back to you
just as soon
as they bring him back on-line.
He was is down for a scheduled maintenance.
The talking angels need to refit
and tweak the words he has to speak.
Janitor ghost have to refit new software.
Bare bones need to be given new dance steps;
disjointed poetry taught to walk upright.
Night and day cogs had been turning, turning,
mind oil burning, burning,
but he is doing good; he is just doing fine.
The three Muses and their staff
will get back to you soon
as they bring him ever so gently
back on line.
I'm coming back to you, Sooling. I'm on my way.
Hear the sheets flapping in the gallants and royals.
The spray is wet upon my cheeks and in my beard.
Soon we anchor at Lahaina in the Sandwich Islands
where we take on supplies and refit the ship.
There's a right smart breeze this morn and we sail
before it. The sky is red and the sea seems
to take on its color in places. There are whitecaps
and each one by the boards only means that I'm that
much closer to you. My Sooling, my Sooling. I love you so
and that English town I left behind was so cold and foggy.
Sooling ---- I want to hold you again in my arms and kiss
your soft lips beneath a beautiful South Sea
sky within the gentle darkness of you bamboo home.
I want to hear you say, " My Jack, I love you."
Scallywag stays but a short time in Lahaina. I'm coming
back to you my Sooling.
riff upon the waves when the music sprays the reef reflex there’s no rift
The past has painted a dreary history
with emblems of bittersweet memories,
Benign soaring deeds in almost everything,
but generations to come will be a surprise.
When worlds far apart ceremoniously unite,
to leave the lowered frown of awful gloom.
Deplume made Africa arise from trampled dirt,
to be admired in fiercer clouds coming down.
With every drapery breath changing place,
Destiny hands over the elusive realms in time,
Casting crowns to a forgotten race of eminence,
To Bring them out from the labyrinth of decline.
Into a glorious sunshine far and high as the stars,
Joyful alliance made combined nations proud,
in greater orbits, their planets have no slaves,
Wearing paradise on their heart under a shroud.
Africa arise out of the screen of banners forgotten,
In the distant sphere, see a reign less radiant now,
Could that vapour be a drop of monotint dream?
With Caribbean faces looking through the window.
Narrowing the refit gap, brace for future impact,
although hope seems very far away,
Africa will arise to stand upon the mountain top,
when the vision becomes light as the day.
In a world less ordinary
would the stars still shine,
milk and honey drip from the vine?
would clouds appear and drift on by,
give break to azure from the sky?
Would sea spray ruffle linen dress,
send children reeling, soaking wet,
let lovers kiss and holding hands,
touch their hearts and see the land.
This old and ordinary place
a palace grand
a special grace.
The stars of men
they do not shine
those pale reflections
lost with time.
All the acts that men can do
need night to cover, the sooty hue
even night cannot erase
the peal of siren
copper chase.
Villains Hyde like,
Jekyll's heirs
lounge in leather
easy chairs
Stroking salve into their wounds
make up artists
paint cartoons
faces plastered, stretched,
pulled back
mask the fissures
time did track
like rows for seeds
love and care
iced over smooth
no growth is theirs
What eternal patience waits
to trap the mice
from out this place
to sweep the dust from under rug
release the waters
bring back the flood
to wash it clean
this palace floor
refit for life
and love
and more.
With so many gifts to
surrender
I can't empty myself fast enough
so much to give so much to
live
the finishing line is
clear
and clearer every minute
every second I breathe.
It's time to go
release
reform refit relax
refill repent
relieve
in small bits
the soft smells and gentle hits.
Agree and be with the flow of
emptiness
let it flow enjoy the the newness of
saying goodbye in slow waves
lapping in your soul.
A soft sea, like an
ocean that slows at the
ridge of your feet. Be rich
and glow with light that
calls you home.
Lilacs still bloom, you feed
what you don't eat to the
great sea of gentility. Be
generous, it makes you free.
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