No other choices left to go
Words and advice have been to slow
Doing their job would of prevented this
Every communication into the abyss
No cruelty no care
Treated not nice of fair
Just the vast expanse of nothingness
From those who promote healthiness
Being paid large salaries
Preaching to those with abnormalities
One appointment every year
The rest of the time living in fear
I cry and beg for your help
Yet they leave me crying ready to yelp
They like to kick you when your down
Beg for help and they frown
Her silence has left me more devastated
Mood so low and deflated
With no choice just a last resort
A drug for the mind it may support
The outcome may have been different
If they weren’t so rude and ignorant
But for right now I have the last resort
Cheers for New Zealanders’ new itch
To move across what they call 'ditch'.
Cheers for camaraderie
With sibling rivalry,
And more, for free passage
In freedom to engage,
For peaceful life across the beach.
Woes alas for my neighbourhood
That worries me if it’d turn good,
There’s no dividing ‘ditch’,
What’s missing, the right itch--
A food for thought today to brood.
_______________________
Happenings | 16.02.2026 | freedom, friendship, neighbours, peace, limerick
Note: Two neighbours, Australia (population: 28 million) and New Zealand (5 million) across free borders. More and more new Zealanders shift to Australia lured by higher salaries, economic opportunities, and more sun. And alas, closer home.
Did you see, did you see
Grampa said excitedly
The system works, it really works
Thank God, they’re not (yet) all jerks
Aw, Gramps, open your eyes, didn’t you see
All those folks forgoing salaries
Airline flights canceled left and right
Millions with nothing to eat at night
Yes, sonny boy, I saw, I saw
And the deal was a bit raw
But the system worked, it really worked!
Sorry, Gramps
You’ve gone blind ~ you old jerk!
Computer writes these poems alongside the me
I am human and I write these poems with Computer
I ought to teach the system comprehend
The common paper pages the the footer
We cannot live this way
We can't develop
We have to find true sense
We have to comprehend
That function of the Ackermann is bogus
The speech is secondary
These defined offense
How as the Cyber Force I will be decorated
With medals, crosses, salaries and rest as such
If I am one occurs the real combat
That can't be measured by incompetent the system
Of the bureaucracy of yours as much
There's good the hacker own system hacker
There's bad the hacker who is real offense
My paper is DEFENSE THE SCIENCE
I only can acknowledged be by the DEFENSE
* the song is LINKIN PARK WTH>YOU because we always like to have song because POEM by Edgar Allan Poe Israfel
In Nigeria's land, where yuletide cheer does fade
A yearly refrain echoes, "Last year was better made"
A curse, it seems, that haunts the present's door
As if the past's sweet memories, forever leave us poor
The cost of food, a constant woe, does rise
A negative trend, that brings tears to sorrowful eyes
Past leaders, revered, as if their wisdom, we can't replace
Does this mean Nigeria's well, of good people, has run dry, and lost its pace?
Should we forever pine, for bygone days of old?
Prefer the past's faded glory, to the present's tale, yet untold?
Fuel and transport costs, a burden, we can't define
Monopoly's grip, so tight, it chokes the poor, and makes them decline
The price of meat, a luxury, few can afford to buy
Yet salaries stagnate, as if frozen, in a bygone sky
Oh, Nigeria, land of promise, when will thy people thrive?
When will the yuletide season, bring joy, and not just a survival to stay alive?
world peace
is it attainable?
not yet.
Plausible?
not here.
Possible?
maybe some day
not this day
not while the NRA rules
and young men are the first ones sent to the front as fodder
while old men collect pensions and lifetime salaries
things might change if we sent senators and congressmen to the front
after they declare wars on other countries
For those whom the Pandemic spared
a real revolution's in the air
From remote work demands
come offices on the beach in the sand
From Teacher's Unions' selfish lies
watch a new improved school system arise
From a shortage of service employees
come whopping increases in their salaries
Politicians' autocratic lockdown response
heralds a massive civil disobedience renaissance
And the government's over-generous checks
prompt folks their life's priorities to inspect
So, what at first seemed an absolute disaster
advances the future ever faster
Mark's salaries could build him no house,
Just gave him computer with a mouse,
After a half year's savings with grouse
For a machine that would new jobs browse...
Mark's pays fed him and Big Mouse in house:
Carelessly gaped pots for Prompt Big Mouse;
If Mark stopped gaping them ate wife's blouse:
The sight of blouse attacked by Mouse cows...
Mark's mind keeps telling him there's some house
He could check into and meet no mouse,
Let alone one which would near wife's blouse
And his Mark's virulent anger rouse.
For now Mark's salaries for the louse
That had his long hairs made its sweet house
A new fight to win; new embers douse...
Vegetarian fox offered his services to me.
The other bunnies said no until they knew he was free.
He’s a cabbie, I said, and he takes all kinds about.
They watched him carefully for years with bunny minds full of doubt.
Vegetarian fox finally asked us for a dollar a night.
The bunnies refused, they are incredibly tight.
Since we get paid ten for each gig that we do,
I took it out of their salaries, and I paid the fox two.
In her school The Readily Received:
Staff didn’t let herself be deceived
By flashed smiles finer than “How are you?”
“Last-minute sack letter always slew!”
A Good Montessori’s Love letter
Teachers handed it “See you, later”
And one had flared at me “Betrayer!”
For with speaker I was her payer:
“Miss Janice, time for your envelope
Plus Mummy’s Best Wishes as you cope…”
Tremble instruction I’d obeyed
And back home would lie in brooding bed:
A directoress that promptly pays
But eternally watching your ways,
Not once, not twice bilious anger grew:
A child in Rejected Red, not Blue…
A female teacher in trousers gone:
She shall her finish with Russian Gun;
One in body hug or the sleeveless
A quite mad thing as good as useless;
The Married risking poor child spacing
Their names on staff list to start tracing:
“Serious teachers their salaries need
No dime for ones who often breast feed.”
1.They are doing it to release three suspects.
2.Judge was on Holiday to give a chance to Link judge
to release the three main suspects.
3.Holiday policy was also used by Islamabad High Court.
4.Holiday policy was used many times by lower court to give bail.
5.They were involved in this whole case either it is in the
Islamabad High court or Lower Court.
6.Police also plays very negative role but at least they have put
the suspects in front of court.
7.Biased Judges are always helpful for criminals.
8.We are number 130 in the world for giving justice but in top seven
to give high level salaries and privileges which are in millions per month
for each judge.
9.They are using delay tactics which is very clear to the public
Whenever they need Favours they always buy it through Holiday Policies.
10.Low moral character doesn't suit a judge.
1.The question is under what authority they collected the money?
2.Ran ads in cinema halls and constituted a five member bench to supervise the fund or construction of the dam.
3.Since the fund is lying there and not being utilized they should have the decency to return the money to the gullible people who gave it to them.
4.Give back that money to such government servants whose salaries were forcibly contributed to humor him and the contributions that were given....
To The Now-Pitied President
No longer thought God-Sent
The making of superb contacts
For entry into cleaner contracts
Is a command to avoid patched-up pacts
And-trust-me – costs you True Logisticians
Besides Sincere Magicians;
If the packages are not to hit the rocks
Or more keys appear with stubborn locks;
“If truly thou seekest a final Turn Around
That shouldest not later sink underground…”
For stiff orders you might bark
And mighty millions earmark
But Glorified Brains the cracked
And Misjudging Misfits the backed,
Progress, sure, shall slack
And one begins to Loyalists sack
The Guys one once shook their hands drop
And their disarming salaries stop…
Now, you are rather The Outgoing
And faster thoughts won’t be flowing,
For so it goes with injury time
While Careless Clock continues to chime
But there really was an F. Kennedy,
After 100 Days, ready remedy…
So, while this Counseling Milk you suck,
I wish you A Suckling's Good Luck.
Santa and Dasher had a quiet talk in the glen
They discussed the elf situation, and the presents so thin.
I do not have to get paid this year, Dasher admitted.
I have condos and townhouses, and my monies well fitted.
That would not be fair, Santa told his generous reindeer.
I could not accept such charity; though your intent is clear.
The other reindeer have investments and wealth plenty I bet.
We’ll donate our salaries to help you make all toys you can get.
The elves were on board, and said pay us in cookies, not money.
Mrs. Claus said “They are wanting to do this. Let’s let them, Honey.”
Santa had forgotten how wonderful the feeling of giving can be.
Finally, he said yes, giving a healthy thanks for their generosity.
Childhood’s no longer a time to chill,
We’ve found ways child’s very child to kill!
Time then to draw a line—
Every child's no Einstein,
S@tire that enough of truth has still.
___________________________________
Happenings | 04.01.2020 |
Topic: humour, childhood, parents
Poet’s note: I see an infant in a cradle. Instead of colourful sundry hangings over the cradle shaft (watching which my generation grew up to be a happy-go-plucky child), I see label-banners that read: JEE, IAS, NEET, GMAT, CAT, GRE, all hurdles that a student has to pass for a bright career attracting good salaries, and his parents filled with aspirations looking over . What a way to raise a child!
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