They crowd around their leader
unqualified, unfit
Vying for some action
all chomping at the bit
They’ve given-up democracy
their morals are all gone
Instead they honor Donald Trump
a two-bit, traitor con
They don’t want an America
with those who aren’t White
They’d rather burn it to the ground
and threaten that they might
They’re homophobic bigots
and condemn those who are trans
Scared of life, scared of love
they punish them with bans
Like preachers, they quote scripture
hang crosses from their chains
But then deport small children
far away, alone, on planes
The MAGA base is poisoned
hating all that’s not the same
Then praise an unfit moron
who’s a fool and has no shame
We won’t give-up our freedom
our vote, or right to talk
Together, we will march as one
resist, and walk the walk
Fear of the Outsider, the interloper, the alien
Is as old as humanity itself.
Xenophobia doesn’t just apply to someone foreign
And “not like us”,
It applies to anyone who may threaten
Our way of life, the status quo, the norm
And way “it’s always been.”
From local bar to climbing crag, surfing beach,
Ghetto corner, and Union shop floor,
The locals, sometimes multigenerational deep,
Tend to claim their turf
With the worst of human qualities;
Fear and loathing
Sublimated into snide ostracism,
Backstabbing gossip and withering looks
If not fully expressed with seething hate
Slander, bullying and assault.
Meanwhile life goes on for the Xeno
Head down, eyes averted, pathways diverted,
While in their heart
They recognize the love their haters have
For their cherished way of life and ground
Is not exclusive
And no different from their own.
(9/6/25)
I need to write about the sky today
for oft I pen as to my turgid past;
I look towards the heaven, lo, it's gray
the fresh dawn's shining yellow-purple hues
long surpassed by darkening clouds of hate
but is there ever beauty in the news?
Perhaps, but mostly hidden deep of late.
Ominous clouds of thunder threaten storms;
and lightning strikes in peaceful urban spots
while every year our little planet warms.
Today, it's Social Media calls the shots
long gone the sanity of just debate.
I need to write about the sky today
it may prevent me getting too irate
I wish it to be sapphire blue, not gray.
When they become a toxin in your mind
when they steal, lie and threaten your life
even if their blood it's time to cut ALL ties.
Your heart was not meant to be used as a spittoon
your mind was not meant to be used as a trampoline
for their a flimsy-half assed sobriety.
Walk away, cut them loose before they spit and cut on you.
Your life is a precious gem to be treated with respect
Two-legged toxins dullen luster and fang the pulse from the neck.
*For Tom Woody contest
Curiouser and curiouser thinks Alice.
Why must I always follow that rabbit?
Last time it didn’t work out well,
I must try to break the habit.
This time they’re on a spaceship
And she’s suddenly floating around.
Ever since they blasted off,
Her feet haven’t touched the ground.
But at least her height remains constant.
No more shrinking then growing.
But where Lewis Caroll is taking her,
There is no way of knowing.
The man in charge is Captain Kirk,
Who seems to be quite potty.
With a top hat with a label on
And a dog he refers to as ‘Scottie’.
They land on a distant planet,
You won’t have heard about,
Discovered by one Charles Dodgson,
With a silly name no doubt.
She steps out from the spaceship,
Wondering what she’ll find.
“That’s one small step for a girl,” she says,
“One giant leap for girlkind.”
She’s met by peculiar characters,
With even sillier names,
Who threaten to chop her head off,
If she doesn’t join in their games.
Then suddenly Alice wakes up.
It’s all been a dream if you please.
And she vows that tomorrow’s supper
Will not be bread and cheese.
Raw, unfiltered anger, it’s all that I know. Constantly
Aggravated by worthless pieces of scum that I struggle
Getting off of my shoes. A nasty glare, a hostile retort,
Everything and anything can, and will, fan the flame.
After the infliction, what happens then? A swelling, a vicious,
Nasty swelling in the throat. A horrible torrent of flames threatens to
Destroy all in its path. Words of pure venom threaten to spew out.
Harrowing to myself and others, I know this to be so. But, like a sore
Affliction or rash, it never truly dissipates. It only subsides, a dormant ember
That flickers in the inky darkness until some ignorant cretin ignites it again.
Red, red, red! Blinding, sizzling-hot red is all I see. Pure and unfiltered
Evil that only cares for spreading vile hatred and destruction. Suddenly, the
Devil is fatigued. It sinks into the abyss, dormant. But not for long.
Every house holds secrets. Each secret cracks like old paint on the walls, revealing the fragility of our hidden truths. Years of concealed issues threaten our futures, regardless of how well they are kept. Unlike the enigmatic Mona Lisa, some secrets should never remain untold.
Within every house, hearts have been broken, and each room stands as a relentless reminder of that pain. Once a heart is shattered, it cannot be restored. Secrets and lies breed a persistent sense of unease that cannot be ignored.
It’s time we take action. We need a strong voice, a seat at the table in Washington, to advocate for us. This time, we, the people, must rise up and make change happen
Hit them where it hurts
President Trump said “Ukraine has no cards to play to end war with Russia”. Yet deep inside Russia, Ukraine masterfully destroys over 40 warplanes that could carry nuclear weapons, using smuggled drones; simultaneously attacks multiple air fields. Russia loses an estimated $7,000,000,000 dollars in one day. This is the one for the history books
It’s what you call “the art of war”
Unseen, unheard, not done before
Hit in the balls, the chin and mug
Ukraine plants hurtful wartime slug
The “Trojan Horse” of modern times
Payback for vicious bloody crimes
Can’t puff your cheeks, the air’s gone
Deprives the evil of its brawn
No one can tell them what to do
Defeating goons is peace, that’s true
As heavy blow, as ever been
Support the noble fight, to win
Burned planes launched heaviest attacks
Could threaten world with N-word axe
And now they’re gone, ain’t that a shame?
We watch. Hey, “Slava to Ukraine”!
June 2, 2025
I know some folks don't like you
They feel threaten in some way
'Cause they don't take time to know you
It frightens them away
They think you're in control
But we both know that's not true
'Cause You're only here to do
The things we tell you to
A I, I can't tell you
What, you mean to me
So I'll simply say "I love you"
Artificially
Your my genie in a bottle
You make my wishes all come true
A I I'm looking forward
To see what else you'll do
A I, I can't tell you
What, you mean to me
So I'll simply say "I love you"
Artificially
If a cop stops you and says, "Show me your ID,"
Know your rights before you agree.
They can’t demand it just on suspicion,
There must be a crime, a law must be broken.
No crime? No reason? Then stand your ground,
Don't allow yourself to get pushed around.
If they threaten you with arrest, if you don’t comply,
They have broken the law, and their career dies.
They’ll lose their shields and all immunity due,
They and the police department can now legally be sued,
For using force where force wasn’t due.
If you don’t use your rights today,
They most definitely will fade away.
So know the rules, stand up, be smart,
Don't let fear tear our rights apart.
He calls me over from the park bench:
"Wanna see something kid"?
It lolls from his open fly
partly erect.
As I stare, it rears
as if to threaten the entire city
with a bold cyclopean gaze. A monster
only Superman (my alter-ego),
could battle against.
"I’m telling mum", I fling over my shoulder,
as I run,
my heroic-powers forgotten.
Behind me -
a villain's brazen laugh.
In front of me –
a troubled puberty.
I'm your punching bag
I'm all the negative thoughts you've ever had
When your cup gets empty you can drink from mine
I'll drink all the promises you left behind
You had a bad day so I'll turn the other cheek
If I try to resist you'll call me weak
So I take it because somehow the alternative hurts much worse
Is this really my life or is it a curse
Break my things like you break my heart
You can break my soul but I'll still make art
Feels so pathetic how I can't walk away
It's the only feeling worse than if I stay
You know this so
You threaten it often
The only way I'm leaving is in my coffin
As spring graces the face of the earth,
an underlying coldness settles below.
Petals dance in the fleeting breeze,
yet a quiet goodbye waits beneath
Time and time again, cherry blossoms bloom,
as the October winds threaten to defile them
But if winter lingers on the surface,
and spring beneath,
doesn't that mean that with every bloom,
a bone-chilling frost begins to creep.
How the birds chitter chatter and the church bells ring.
Daffodils fill the graveyard and are picked by passers-by.
Families attend the spring fair where a florist sells arrangements.
The chided children are guilty of picking flower petals but are
Pacified by their parent’s sternness by partaking in a Spring dance.
Dancing deer dart away out of view in the village field.
Freshly hatched chicks are made victims of the foxes.
But not before the farmers so threaten their temptation by
A gunshot or two.
Another Spring rainfall, the grass greener and greener still.
Dogs are walked in the woods where children accompany wilfully.
They attend church with holy communion and in his honour bread and wine is consumed.
In his remembrance of his resurrection, it is such a ritual, and they are thankful for his offering.
Flammable I’m nor dry tinder,
Scare me nor threaten of lightning,
Past autumn and chilly winter,
I look forward to the next spring.
I’m already left with few leaves,
Let worst of autumn’s fall arrive,
Go not by my dry woody frame,
The tree in me is all alive.
What if covered I’m with this frost,
Just around the corner is sun,
I see life well past all this change,
Every season to me is fun.
A meditating sage, no arid stem,
You had better go not by my lean frame.
__________________________
Sonnet |01. 04.2025| tree, Nature, autumn, spring
Note: Many trees in India experience autumn and spring more than once a year. I watched two Peepal trees and one Neem in front of my house shedding leaves in just a few days and again acquiring them equally fast-- from a skeleton wooden frame to a tree with shimmering tender, light-coloured leaves in sun. A tree is always alive, full of life, no matter how it might appear. Looking at it and marvelling of its love of life, to an aging old man, in no mean envy, this sonnet happened.
Related Poems