Chemmani lies beneath the earth,
carrying the names of the lost.
Voices of families became questions:
will our children's justice prevail?
A school bag left the child's back,
A shoe ripped off their foot.
Bottles of milk spilled,
bodies covered soil and dirt.
Our children taken from us,
Mothers, fathers, grandparents.
Our love for our loved ones,
taken away from us in a second.
Justice for Chemmani,
justice for our children.
Yet the question still remains:
will our children's justice prevail?
Are we that cold-blooded?
NOT to be crass but had to butt-in...
Because although some might pass, there is a question I have been wondering?
If a lizard loses its tail, becoming derailed instead of jailed...
Who are the ones in charge, one might see or say thus far?
An overlord of the rent money spent, pent up yet NOT eating crickets,
As they seem or tend to chirp when all lizards should be getting out of church...
Scales weigh in what the scaly reptilian skin would be akin to,
The fact that we knew all along as we grew new tails,
After the olds ones were ripped off, being scoffed at by older dinosaurs,
Of course! Our necks stick out!
I would stick mine out for you.
Not just a mating call but what we are supposed to do.
I thought you knew. It is true.
Are we that cold-blooded?
NOT to be crass but had to butt-in...
Because although some might pass, there is a question I have been wondering?
If a lizard loses its tail, becoming derailed instead of jailed...
Who are the ones in charge, one might see or say thus far?
An overlord of the rent money spent, pent up yet NOT eating crickets,
As they seem or tend to chirp when all lizards should be getting out of church...
Scales weigh in what the scaly reptilian skin would be akin to,
The fact that we knew all along as we grew new tails,
After the olds ones were ripped off, being scoffed at by older dinosaurs,
Of course! Our necks stick out!
I would stick mine out for you.
Not just a mating call but what we are supposed to do.
I thought you knew. It is true.
The walls are sweating with the stench of the lie,
While the vultures in suits watch the innocent die.
You call them "leaders," you call them "the state,"
But they’re monsters fueled by a bottomless hate.
We thought we could trust the hand on the wheel,
But it’s satanic filth and a heart made of steel.
Blood-sucking leeches in a temple of sin,
Letting the child-torturing nightmare begin.
No more whispers, no more polite "reform,"
When pedophiles gather to shelter the storm.
They feast on the small, they prey on the weak,
While the truth is a language they refuse to speak.
The mask is ripped off, the rot is laid bare,
There’s a venomous smoke in the hollowed-out air.
They aren't just failing; they’re the beast at the door—
And the people won't bleed for the lies anymore.
One man is always filled with gratitude.
Another, each time, feels that he's ripped off.
Why the difference in their attitude,
and why does one give thanks while one will scoff?
A crust of bread to one is most unfit.
To another, it constitutes a feast.
So, is this meal not worth a pint of spit,
or the heavenly fruit of baker's yeast?
Every life, from the lofty to the low
is punctuated by its ups and downs,
It is just the way things will always go,
that cheerful smiles are interspersed with frowns.
Be not concerned for your special station,
but feast upon your life's celebration.
Where the temple of books stood still,
Library of Jaffna kept ancient history in Tamil.
1933, is where it was all built by cement and wood.
The pure, white colour of the library was seen beyond good.
Ancient texts, ancient books, were read,
Books of ancient history would rarely been unread.
The library was like a sacred temple of books.
Archaeologists would admire its heavenly and sacred looks.
1981, where chaos was going to start,
Where flames consumed the library's heart.
Mobs of the Sinhalese burnt down Tamil's memories of history,
Whether the ancient books or texts are going to survive, is a mystery?
97,000 books burnt in one single night,
The structure had been ripped off from its tall height.
The pain of losing our history in writing is great loss,
Not a single book or an ancient text or single word couldn't be recovered from this burning loss.
Written By: D. Collins 6/11/25
Nothing could explain how soft OKC probably is.
Blocking out? And a max of 4 points from a big?
They have no Charles Barkley who sat in their laps.
Ensuring they couldn't jump and came over the back.
There was an umbrella around the rim in the old days.
Now 4 out of 5 players stand around to shoot tre's.
The game has changed to where it's played without thought.
Just step out of bounds, throw it in, and get ripped off.
They throw it into to SGA then do nothing at all.
Stand around the perimeter hoping they'll get the ball.
No cuts through the paint to finish at the rack.
I'm just wondering whatever happened to that?
Trees’ leaves were ripped off,
leaving nakedness behind
with teasing winter:-
Nude trees not ashamed
as winter winds teased them;
their hope barked in spring:-
Through thrusting winter,
naked trees never gave in;
waiting coming leaves:-
Despite the fear mongering
(phony news) (Socialist Blues)
American's economy is doing
well – not, in a hand-basket,
going to hell. Today's new
jobs report, 228,000 created,
America being resuscitated --
(Sorry for tariffs, no other choice)
(Capitalist’s again have an enterprising
sane voice)
(Despite Socialist Boos, by adopting
Free-trade World Economies will all
prosper~ and not lose!)
Those corrupt closer to home,
The little man is no-longer your
manipulated cash-cow – we had
sense of being ripped off~ Musk,
is only showing us, by who and
how.
We were young and full of adventure
Travelling in our kombi van
Burning incense and listening
To Cat Stevens and Bob Dylan
We decided to climb a tourist peak
Slowly making it to the top
Going down was easier
Though there was a lot of start and stop
It was busy on the peak that day
With tourists abound
We had to keep standing aside
On the narrow ground
As we stood aside to let someone pass
There was a buzzing in the air
In a moment bees were upon me
Down my top and in my long hair
Without any thought or hesitation
In a complete frenzied state of affairs
Writhing and screaming I ripped off my top
To many tourists eyes a-glare ……
pulse on the roots of my hair
spread on the bed
i ripped off my sheets to find consolation
my fingers bled
searched every corner for a crumb of freedom
the city stayed
saw the blinds shaken from the storm
my future is dead.
When it comes to wrapping presents,
I am really not that good.
The edges aren’t neat and don’t
Lie flat the way they should.
The paper that I use, though,
Is quite festive, to distract
From all the perfect extras
That my presentation lacked.
And if I have a lot to wrap,
My efforts just get worse,
Though fortunately, the receivers
Cannot hear me curse.
It really makes no difference, since
To get at what’s inside,
The wrapping gets ripped off
No matter how it’s sealed or tied.
And once that paper’s in a heap
Or crumpled on the floor,
Nobody can remember how
That present looked before.
In the dire moments of constant fear,
anyone can sense danger from all sides...
wondering if this is our final chapter,
or the continuation of more absurd lies!
I sold my gold to pay off some hefty bills:
a bracelet and a chain I wore at gala parties;
I agreed to a lesser price and feel at peace...
kicking off many worries to the lowest degree!
I asked the bearded guy behind the glass window,
how much they were worth trying to make a deal;
he looked at me and with a raspy voice not so genteel,
" To be honest they aren't worth much, poor fellow! "
He handed me one hundred dollars
enough to survive a few miserable days;
I walked away unhappily, I was ripped off...
yesterday it felt good being an admired toff!
I sold my gold feeling deprived of excessive pride,
it served a purpose but it left much emptiness inside;
greed is not the rule we must live by: gold is a wealth
well-earned, but it can't save us from destined death!
In the dire moments of constant fear,
anyone can sense danger from all sides...
wondering if this is our final chapter,
or the continuation of more absurd lies!
I sold my gold to pay off some hefty bills:
a bracelet and a chain I wore at gala parties;
I agreed to a lesser price and feel at peace...
kicking off many worries to the lowest degree!
I asked the bearded guy behind the glass window,
how much they were worth trying to make a deal;
he looked at me and with a raspy voice not so genteel,
" To be honest they aren't worth much, poor fellow! "
He handed me two hundred dollars
enough to survive a few miserable days;
I walked away unhappily, I was ripped off...
yesterday it felt good being an admired toff!
I sold my gold feeling deprived of excessive pride,
it served a purpose but it left much emptiness inside;
greed is not the rule we must live by: gold is a wealth
well-earned, but it can't save us from destined death!
One hot summer night, I had a wonderful dream
About the sexiest woman I've ever seen.
She wore a mini dress that matches her red head.
She took me by the hand and here's what she said:
"You're in my power and slowly going to a trance;
Tonight I'll make you mine after the last dance.
I've had my eye on you for quite awhile;
I love the way you move and your great smile."
"Thanks," I said. "By the way, what's your name?"
"Like Peter Parker's wife," she responded, "I'm Mary Jane."
So Mary Jane and I left the party in a cab,
Paid for the fare, and left a hefty tab.
We arrived at her house and I was so excited.
Mary Jane was happy that I got invited.
We went to her apartment, and to my surprise,
She hypnotized me with her seductive eyes;
Ripped off my clothes, and threw me onto her bed!
She was about to kiss me, but instead,
My alarm went off at a quarter after 10:
I'll never have a dream like this again. (DAMN!)
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