Restrained by my own hand,
I stagnate, going grey.
Through fingers, like sand,
Time slips away.
What could have been,
Never happened.
Now there is nothing,
I am alone.
AI COULD END ALL
THE HUMANITY DOWNFALL
A HOAX TRUMP DOES CALL
Senescence ongoing
Biological to the core
Cellular and systemic
Even genes mutate
Creeps in on you
Like a thief at night
Movement deliberate
Your thoughts too
The new kids run
Outpacing you
The final stretch
Never ending
Energy flagging
Redeemed by love
Unconditional and true
As you kick to the end
The Mosquito Squad has been zapped, swatted,
And completely obliterated.
Because they learned the hard way
That they can dish it, but they sure can't take it.
They've planned numerous strategies
And tried every trick in the book;
But everything has backfired
And their goose was already cooked.
Every summer was the same mission:
Find a sexy body and eat it.
It didn't matter if it was a booty, an arm, or a leg:
Alas, the Mosquito Squad has been defeated.
"That's the last straw!" the Squad Leader yelled,
With steam coming out of his ears.
"You've failed me one too many times!
I don't want to see your crocodile tears!
You can't even follow a direct order
And always fall flat on the floor.
Now get out of my sight, you knuckleheads!
The Mosquito Squad is no more!"
The crowd began singing
As the mosquitoes disappear in the sky,
"NA NA NA NA, NA NA NA NA,
HEY HEY HEY! GOOD-BYE!"
To show His love,
Our God did send,
His one and only Son,
To save from sin,
We mortals hear, that,
"This is not the end."
Yes, We offend,
Our God above,
Yes, we were born in sin.
Please, God forgive,
We’ll make amends, since,
"This is not the end."
We travel through,
This life we wend,
With Son of Man as Friend.
We have no fear,
Since He is near, knowing,
“This is not the end.”
And we have learned,
Faith, Hope and Love,
Of all our fellow men,
Must be secured,
On these Life depends, for,
“This is not the end.”
This life on earth,
With such few years,
Know death it will attend.
Yet we have Faith,
And Hope is dear, that,
"This is not the end."
And when the veil,
On life descends,
And closes out our case,
We'll know for sure,
That Truth endured, and,
"It was not the end."
* * *
Darrell Simmerman © 2025
You may find it’s all been said
What you mean to say
But it sounds not too bad
In your own sweet way
You may look out with no aim
Scanning the familiar view
But it isn’t quite the same
For today the morning dew
Burns the leaf it occupies
With the dazzling sun
Welcome to the silent cries
As if you are young
But not near that comprehensive
As the youngsters are
Maybe little over-pensive
With your mind too far
From the problems of today
Too close to the past
Saying what you have to say
Once again too fast..
A toilet is my peaceful place,
Where I can just sit and hide my face,
I can sit and relax and read my news paper,
Sit and read about the recent news capers.
Then when I finished my business I realize there is only one sheet,
So I sit there thinking on that cold hard seat,
Then finally it comes to me, I'll use the sports page from my daily news sheet!!
When nearing the end of your toilet roll -
Apprehension of the unknown takes its toll.
Turn back to Nature for some respite,
For inspiration on what is right -
To calm your mind and free your soul.
before the sunset,
mulberry watering time,
many leaves are green
yet, a quarter are yellow,
just five are dark in color!
Now it is time to sleep, the high summer was too bright,
The scorching light dyed every plant in deep-hued sight,
And the blades of grass refused to send the wind away.
The final gift, gently approaching toward me,
Please wrap the roots of the grass so tenderly,
Bestow a rain upon me, who survived just one more day,
And let that heavy rain wash over my body, come what may.
Now the grass no longer sings alone,
Beneath me, the eternal spirit of the soil known,
Will sing a song for me, through snow and stormy weather,
It will protect me, holding us together.
And when someone treads upon my blade of grass,
I will only grow closer to the earth as they pass.
What a hymn,
you leave me,
as warmth
becomes the chills,
You leave me,
All of this was to die,
standardized,
a yellow flame
searing red
becomes blue.
Cold-ish ash,
fingers turn brittle,
crumbling to
blood- soaked
smokey cash.
Our fingers
corrupted
through
the
exchange of
history,
paper,
coins,
built on violence.
I fought
dragons
for treasures,
I did my best
to
tip toe
to the other side
of rainbows,
truth is,
the journey
is wealth
folded Cards,
scattered dice,
fingers pointed...
Alas,
the beauty of
grace,
the divine thoughts of
silk and lace,
bleeden
if inter-weavened,
bloody grips
who seeks the price....
Family,
scolded,
how the cold
inflicts sores
through
entirety
of winter.
Me oh my I spy with my little eye
The climate crisis they still deny
The sleuth’s proofs they will defy
Ruthless with truths they just lie
An evangelist tryst as we all fry
Oligarchy malarkey is their ally
Shout read the book of Malachi
It either floods or is drought dry
Biblical not whimsical we all cry
Facts cloaks with pacts on the sly
Pokes broke folks as try to get by
Acts wry impunity from on high
Tracts of woke jokes.. on the fly
Elite phalanx craved the whole pie
As each raved I am a stand up guy
Banks our future on a computer tie
Skanks everyone thanks really why?
Everything tanks but saved by AI?
Fossil fuel fools with a limited supply
Flawed but adored as no rules apply
Share prices soared on the vices rely
Fires roared here & abroad we reply
Renewable’s doable & cheap to buy
Maraud with their fraud we all sigh
Abhorred just give our planet a MRI
Everything gnawed comply we all die
Sandwich board says the end is nigh
So if there's a Lord look up to the sky
The end of July
Means the summer’s half gone,
Though the season’s activities
Keep going on.
Yet with camps winding down,
School supplies on the shelves,
We must face what’s ahead -
No deceiving ourselves.
I, for one, will not miss
The hot weather and sweat
And, as autumn approaches,
I surely won’t fret.
I look forward to jackets
And crisp chilly air,
Back to all those routines
For which we must prepare.
Though I’m jumping the gun -
There’s still August ahead,
Which I fear will not match
How July’s somehow fled.
population motivated
afterworld adversity
touchingly touchline
detested comrade
undeserving snitch
shoplift stimulated
firing you
unsweet vanquish
torn debilitating
satinpod drenched
occupation serviceable
calmly savour
salvation tablemate
conceptual thanksgiving
(Weekly Magnetic Poetry Challenge • July 27–August 2, 2026)
She opens her eyes at dawn,
Finding a moment of peace
Before the day is drawn.
Noise of life soon intrudes
To underscore futile busyness
Like improvised etudes.
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