T W O T'S IN the media and on the bench.'
Black as sin, are the gowns that are meant
To instill fear.' Well they give me a laugh like
Bad theater actors..They have no heart.' For
The art.' No realization of reality.' Hell must
Be their room of rest.? When they gather do
They swagger.? And compare of whom they have
Robbed the most.' Then there are T W O T''s
In the police force..we find our most unfriendly clots' but they are best described in homogeny ( just label them all as (t w o t s)
Saxophone & sipping cabernet,
toe tapping,
writing away
dancing within dream,
head bobbing.
O those French mots
j’aime. Sax O!
Relax O, merci beaucoup!
Kim Rodrigues © 2025
On a hill exists a house of tards.
We send them now.. Our worst regards'
They listen to foreign powers..
They work dark stuff.!
We must now invoke the constitution
For we have all had enough.!
AI: panacea or pain? Contest //Sponsored by: Simon Rogerson
( Ist Place )
Written: August 10, 2025
A whisper born of code and light,
vast potential, a promising sight--
yet twilight sprawl where circuits reign.
Panacea — or pulse of pain?
We hold the key, the spark, the fear,
to pave the way — far and near.
Plain Jane Mrs. Poindexter Perry
Questioned quipster with a quarrelsome query
riling him up, down, on top and around
sappy sarcasm certainly not very sound
tearjerking interrogation turning treacherous
uncontrite interview unequivocally uncourteous
twoo twoo twoo
twee twee twee
O the cheerful melody
bad news on t.v.
floods are carried away
Dear children swept like dust
twoo twoo twoo
twee twee twee
O the cheerful melody
that once filled the camp
there was dancing and crafts
and a chain of hands
twoo twoo twoo
twee twee twee
O the cheerful melody
of the waters, beautifully sunned
then in one catastrophic strophe
a beast arises, releases frenzy
twoo twoo twoo
twee twee twee
O the cheerful melody
of campers, one minute
sleeping, tethered to their beds
then out of their heads with fear
twoo twoo twoo
twee twee twee
O the cheerful melody
of birds in the calm of afternoon
a cup of overflowing caffeine
pleasantry and dreams
dreadful nightmares
hold our loved ones close
we must. we live. we cry.
twoo twoo twoo
twee twee twee
O the cheerful melody
O the cheerful melody
O the cheerful m
e
l
O
d
y
O!
Look at me I’m Donnie T!
Unbound by reality
Out of my head
But my hat is bright red
It’s me!
I’m Donnie T…ee…ee
I have a great slogan
I’m pals with Joe Rogan
(Great guy. Very short.)
It’s me!
I’m Donnie T!
A real stable genius
I have a yuge
(don’t judge my hands)
(they’re quite large for a man)
Say’s me
I’m Donnie T…ee…ee
Work for me you’ll sign an NDA
To protect my big fat…HEY
(we all do it…right?)
It’s me!
I’m Donnie T!
So believe me, I know
Just because I said so
You’re stupid when you don’t
And a loser if you won’t
It’s me!
I’m Donnie T…ee...ee
We are just so very great
“They” however do not rate
(They’re eating our pets after all)
It’s me
I’m Donnie T!
Don’t you believe the covfefe
They try to make me look messy
Tremendously fake news
Watch Hannity for your views
It’s me!
I’m Donnie T…ee…ee
All I do is make deals
The bestest great deals
(Tariffs and Crypto--How can we lose)
It’s me
I’m Donnie T!
You know China’s just not classy
But my daughter Ivanka is so sassy
I’d date her if I could
But Melania said I probably should…..not
It’s me!
I’m Donnie T…EEEE…EEEE!
ravishing revitalized rare riverbank rainbow
sharing and showing jeweled colors that glow
tantalizing turquoise next to perfectly pampered pink
unique every time, a universal feeing and mystical link
Haiku in English a strict 5/7/5
the most difficult to contrive
Tanka adds a couplet 7/7
show then tell the poetic leaven
The T in talent are pieces of tampered glass
Subjugated under capitalism,
And meticulously carving out worthlessness
on the talented's carcass.
The A stands for all the crumbs of appreciation
You collect along your way, feeding your right and just pride
Humbled by a dilemmatic correlation
of efforts and proudness.
The L is tricky, which maybe the love
Or the life that seeps into you through your work,
The ingenuity dies as L extinguishes,
and you will bear the blame of the consequences.
Once you are done loving, you get greeted with E.
The empathetic reign you have grown from flesh and dust
Withers and begs for sympathy, waiting patiently
for a high class judgement from the unnamed jury.
All the nihilistic N you preached,
Comes down to your questioning of moralism,
What great have you achieved with your nothingness,
compared to someone sewing life with devotion?
The T in talent stands for the time
A soul wastes on fixing the tampered glass,
But someone like you who knows how to stand up,
start with talent tomorrow, a journey from zero regardless.
I had a dream where you were my super girl
My Heroine, the one that could save my heart from breaking
My heroin my worst addiction
You were in my veins
Running in my blood into my heart
Raising me higher I became high
I felt safe with you in my veins
You drove away my pain
Without pain I did gain
A girl, my super heroine
My super girl
With your power you raised me to the stars
Hoping I could see Krypton
So I'd meet your parents
But it was already destroyed
Then we held on to our love
I awoke, maybe a fairy tale would prosper
We live happily ever after, in my day world
[Perhaps this is apart of my twisted delusions? Oh, mundane, antithetical, to dream of a median--a deranged, psychotic thought.]
[“I ponder the chains of order; perpetually asphyxiating a ‘disobedience’. Why, why we need of persecuting the good?”]
[Malice subsumes those who yet to temper, and sorrow enshrouds those refined. Crux, crux, I call to, whom ignore my solemn cries.]
[“A fate of malevolence albeit conduct--oh, love, abhor, equity seldom be attained.“]
[Is it merely viable?]
[“Or am I just simply insensate?”]
[Ah, break me free of the binding chains-- one of rectitude, the other loathe, as if there’s no point in between.]
[“Told of finding peace, tempted to defile, disequilibrium.”]
[Why serenity remain beyond touch?]
[“Is it plausible to grasp?”]
A fate of dystopia.
To all, apologies I send,
For sights unseen, where paths did end.
My roller coaster, wild and free,
A blur of motion, lost to me.
Through twists and turns, I couldn't trace,
The dizzying speed, the frantic pace.
It grew too much, a heavy weight,
A burden I could not take.
The highs and lows, a weary game,
A constant shift, a burning flame.
Most often hung, in shadowed darkness
Upside down, where there was no light.
I'm tired now, of every climb,
And every plummet, stealing time.
The ride is done, the wheels unwind,
A weary peace, for heart and mind.
Gladys T. Smith was never happy or joyful about anything.
Her life was full of drugs, needles, anger and hate.
All three of her children wrote this obituary for the woman.
The devil, who was our mother.
She was not kind to a neighbor, stranger or pet.
She used the belt when she could, chasing off anyone decent.
We grew up resentful and alone; no one came to our aid.
The best thing we can say about her is, she did not drown us.
soul searching
paint with words
spontaneity
imagination
inspiration
faith
&
spiritual
simplicity
& serendipity
in awareness
lucidity
insight
imagery
perspective
& perception
resonate
with
art
daily
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