Lost in writing iambic couplets, the moon and sea
Sounds of whispers from between long eyelashes
Waves moving from side to side, a provocation
Quick, let's fly out, chirping the wild ducks
________________________
11 September 2025
Bizarre and illogical
the successions of images
unthinking in the mind
the mixture of visual
experiences influenced by
the happening's of the
wakened world
ideas, emotions and sensations
Frustrations from the debate of
two people who believed that building
a bridge over the Cook Strait was
a good idea.
His restless mind found him trouble
he dreamed of him being on
a horse
along side a woman on
her horse
with ice-cream in there back pockets
with horses following them
It's beleived he awaken from
the dream inspired to
to build an under ground amphitheater
there he'd televise shows
across the world
In halls of learning, we gather round,
Peers united, common ground is found.
Shared laughter echoes, memories made,
Together we grow, our bonds are displayed.
With every step, we learn and share,
Supporting each other, without a care.
In times of need, they lend a hand,
A friendly nudge, to help us stand.
Through trials and tribulations, we face,
Peers by our side, a steady pace.
Their smiles and cheers, a guiding light,
Illuminate our path, through darkest night.
In peer groups, we find our place,
A sense of belonging, a warm, safe space.
Where we can be ourselves, wild and free,
And grow into the best version of me.
I wake up in a room full of mirrors,
a funhouse of distortion
where reality is blurred.
I gasp, for in one of the mirrors,
I see a young version of me—
rocking and singing a lullaby
to my newborn baby girl,
with a full head of dark hair.
By my side, a little boy with blue eyes and blond hair—
a million-dollar family.
Sighing contently, I hold them close to me.
A muffled sound—sobbing—is heard in the distance,
the sound alarmingly familiar.
The mother sobs uncontrollably,
her graying hair and lines on her face
reveal a much older version of myself,
clutching to her heart
a picture of a beautiful, brown-eyed girl with dimples.
In the mirror, she reads: RIP.
The mirror doesn’t lie.
A deep pit with a crumbling edge.
Far below,
is a muddy pool swarming with crocodilians.
There is someone with me, a boy.
I shouldn't have taken the child here.
I am slipping, taking him with me,
he won't let go of my hand.
We are sliding on pebbly scree.
A gun drags at my hip,
its weight pulls us down
to where green-scaled
and armored reptiles
thrash in a melee.
One mindscape devolves into another.
I’m a visitor to strange
and as yet unmapped streets.
I've lost my parked car
somewhere between many unfamiliar
city blocks.
Home is a door in the back of my mind,
I suspect that behind it
is a child who knows the way back.
A small boy appears,
he is holding a tin wind-up crocodile,
one his dad once bought him.
At his side a long-barreled revolver,
the same type of weapon
I purchased in Florida
in the event of an alligator attack.
Throughout the years, my kids had
A variety of hats,
Along with all the books and dolls
And games and baseball bats.
A few were parts of costumes
Or vacation souvenirs,
While others served as props
For princesses or buccaneers.
Though most have long been cast away,
Some managed to hang on –
The pirate and top hats are here;
The cowboy hats are gone.
Yet still, I felt a little pang
When throwing out the trash
And there, with all the magazines
Was something from the stash.
A plastic Viking headpiece
With, on either side, a horn.
I have a photo of my son
From when that hat was worn.
It served its purpose and is now
Bashed up and way too small.
Though I felt sad to throw it out,
My son won’t care at all.
The Grind
In Gielinor's realm, where legends reside,
A hero emerges, with nowhere to hide.
From Lumbridge to Kharazi, a journey untold,
With pickaxe and sword, a story unfolds.
The grind is relentless, the hours they blur,
Woodcutting, mining, a monotonous stir.
But whispers arise, of glory and fame,
To slay the great dragon, and conquer the game.
From barrows to bandits, a constant fight,
Forging ahead, with unwavering might.
Each skill a triumph, each level a gain,
A digital odyssey, easing the pain.
With friends by your side, a camaraderie deep,
Sharing the burden, secrets to keep.
The memories linger, the laughter, the tears,
A timeless adventure, conquering fears.
So raise a tankard, to Gielinor's might,
To heroes of old, who battled through night.
For in this realm, where legends are born,
The spirit of Runescape forever will adorn.
{"I poisoned myself, thinking about you nonstop, it was annihilating me on the inside, even the melancholy sounds of the river streams that intonate into droplets, do not convey to me the ultimatum of serenity anymore.
Your presence was sufficient to morph me into someone I’m certainly not.
I cut my eyes to the mirror and I cannot recognize myself anymore. I pick up a boulder and heave it, ravaging it to pieces, my hands unfurled to grab one piece of the blade.
Realization creeps up on me, I buried my soul with you, you were above whilst I was below; you would,
make me believe I was worthy of nothing, not even yourself; us standing side by side; a privilege you would insinuate.
I poisoned myself,
the malevolence was too intoxicating,
the sentiments were too bottomless,
how to exude it remained an enigma,
I poisoned myself with a misconception about you,
you weren’t who I thought you were; I haul my feet to the desolate ledge of the flowing water,
I let myself go, when I started to loathe you and your existence.
Like a wolf scrutinizing its prey; once upon a time, you abhorred me, and I loved you.
It seems as if opposites really do attract. What a…
Tragedy."
Side A
Time’s Effect On Us
(Noway & Back)
Produced by I M Sorry
Side B
But You’re Still In My Dreams
(Night & Tears)
Produced by R U Leaving
Recorded by Ann Other
at Her Apartment
Side A:
Players of an album made...
Vinyl, cassette, CD.
Audio output displayed
To ears of you and me.
Mono in the days of old
For output of a song.
Better mixing would unfold
When stereo came along.
Physicality was more
Abundant way back when.
One went to the music store
To buy albums - and then...
Side B:
...after years of being sold
In shops to you and me,
Music nowadays is told
And heard in MP3.
One's collection can be built
Online and through their phone.
Consider music as a quilt
With tracks together sewn.
Who would have visioned or thought
That since days of devices,
Artists can be streamed and bought
At reasonable prices?
I watch you from afar, my heart beats oh so fast
But I can’t find the courage, will my feelings will last?
Every time you smile, my world lights up so bright
You are the beam of sunshine on the darkest night
I want to tell you how i feel, but the words they just get stuck, i get a lump ,in my throat, I just cant speak up
These feelings inside, I keep locked away ,hoping the day will come, that I can tell you how I feel and I know you are one
Im Secretly in love with you, but you’ll never know
It’s a bittersweet symphony, this is the hidden show
My heart sings your name, in whispers oh so soft
But the truth remains untold, a desire that maybe lost,
I write you letters everyday, that I’ll never send
Pour my heart out, in these words , my love I will defend
In my dreams, you’re always by my side,a happiness oh so true
But in realty, my feelings I hide,In the silence of a love for you
I looked in America’s mirror tonight
What I saw was only left or right
Reflecting a nation irreparably divided
With no desire to again be united
I longed for a touch, just a touch, of awareness
An admission that ‘I might once have been wrong’
What I witnessed was unbridled aggression
From each side, a fiercely combative song
I searched for a hint of humility
A confession: ‘Maybe I don’t have all the solutions’
What I beheld was feisty defiance
Candidates lip-syncing dubious science
I hungered for clear answers to questions
A yes that’s a yes, a no that’s a no
What I heard was ‘MY agenda is what to invest in’
Implied was ‘To hell’s where YOUR question can go…’
I looked in America’s mirror tonight
silently praying for some kind of light
What looked back was darkling belligerence
accompanied by saber-rattling dissonance
That's the Venice door showered with beauty!
Where loneliness is daily on duty,
By its side, a small pool just sailed two boats,
The occupants are most probably ghosts,
If they're humans, they must be real cuties.
First I saw of this was in Djibouti,
But that was left decrepit and sooty,
So, for elegance that beauty denotes;
That's the Venice door!
The decorations are made quite pretty,
It's like from a last century movie,
Flowers even near the pool that boat floats,
It's the clean surrounding that makes wealth gloats,
Stamps of opulence colors it pretty,
That's the Venice door!
Denmark
What a sweet little country, it's national
anthem reflects his kindness when the German army
marched in 1940, there was no resistance
hence, not one life was lost
the old king continued to ride his horse in the park
Denmark was pressured into, joining NATO as Norway did 57 years ago, the Danes know which side a slice of the loaf has the butter,
while paying obedience
to the real power, America, they continued
to make Denmark a sweet country
Something unforeseen happened, the war in Ukraine
as NATO members they sent two planes there
only two as the budget would not allow for more
but their merchant fleet is vital in carrying the USA
products
apart from this, the Danes know it is a small
country, to maintain a high standard of living
they have aligned themselves to a greater power
But her charm was not lost
In the liveliest REM stage of his night
Bert beholds an unusual sight.
A troupe of pink elephants sound a trumpet blast
Then stomp united towards the grass.
On the other side, a team of tall strong guys
March to the pitch with focussed eyes.
"I'll be the goalie!' Dan told Bert.
'I'm least likely to get hurt."
Bert referees. His reminder the same,
"The joy's in the play, not winning the game."
At half time, a call is heard from Phil.
"How have the elephants scored two nil?
It's not right. It makes no sense...
Football's not for elephants!"
The guys huddle up and devise a plan
To catch as many mice as they can.
When the teams take position on the green
A commotion begins. A chaotic scene!
The elephants pale to white as a goose
When all the mice have been let loose.
The guys score goals before the mice disappear
The elephants play on, when free from fear.
Bert awakens amazed and confused.
He starts to laugh, feeling quite amused.
He answers the question written on Suzanne's face.
He fills her in on the match that took place.
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