You saw the lines weren't too long
so you went for the gas first--
spend a little time, save a lot of
money you thought. But it took
longer than you expected [too
many 'tank's as you call SUVs
filling up their 50 gallon tanks]
so by the time you went into the
giant store, you were feeling like
a crab trapped in a net as you
wrestled through the weekend
army of bargain hunters....
Finally at home, you plopped
down in your comfy chair as
the nightly news came on and
sipped fresh brewed French
roast and ate a piece of rich
chocolate cake you bought at
Costco and felt a bit sad for
those poor people in Ukraine
as you watched war in hi-def....
Still, the thoughts uppermost in
your mind as your eyes scanned
so many dead bodies lying quiet
in the streets like stones thrown
randomly was just how damn
good the coffee was and how
much you had saved going to
the big box store....
Title: Children of Broken Promises
(25 Lines)
They signed their names in ink made of blood,
A treaty scrawled on the bones of the poor.
They shook hands under marble skies,
While cities burned in silent uproar.
Children played with bullets for toys,
Lullabies hummed in the throat of a drone.
A mother stitched hope into her shawl,
But war tore the thread and left her alone.
What prayer can pierce a soldier’s ear?
What hymn can silence a tyrant’s laugh?
They plant flags like daggers in the earth,
And call it freedom—this butcher’s craft.
The rivers carry whispers of bones,
The mountains echo their iron song.
History bleeds through pages of lies,
As empires fall and yet march on.
O children of broken promises,
Your cries are etched on a shattered sky.
You are the ink in tomorrow’s poems,
You are the reason the stars still try.
He had to be mad
to invade Ukraine
his troops followed orders
they must all be insane
to cross the borders
an unwarranted attack
by a megalomaniac
bombarding innocents
who couldn't fight back
one leader was a comedian
the other is a clown
the former gave us smiles
the latter makes us frown
what do the Russians hope
to achieve or accomplish
by destroying all they covet
leave us alone Ukraine's only wish
and it would be right in the pocket
if Zelenskyy signed a docket
for a galoot in cahoots
who's a-rootin' tootin'
to shoot a stealth rocket
between the ears of the idiot Putin
June 21, 2025
For the Beatles 'Lay it to Me' song Contest by Charles Messina
The old iron curtain came down
But soon a clown reclaimed the crown
Ruthless and hollow-souled he rose
Now a foul Soviet wind blows
From the east it battered Ukraine
Spreading such cruel and endless pain
The past returns in blackened char
“Back in the U.S.S.R.”
Picture a dusty village road
Where two stubborn goats
One older full of pride
Another younger and very agile
Face each other on a narrow bridge
Neither want to back down
They lock horns in front of the whole village
Each claiming the right of way
On the edges, villager elders watched on
Placing bets on who fights better
Turning merchants for their goods
Whilst the drums of propaganda beats on.
But the bridge
thin and weary from the weight
begins to crack beneath their show down
and when it breaks won’t the whole village bleed from the fall?
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
nikita caspan..What a toilet pan.' Murders parents is a satanist, taking nazi instructions, to kill Mr Trump; next was the plan.!
Fifty one m1 Abrams tanks.' Australian donated it would
Break a small bank' to cause more misery..While many
Live in tents.' War and destruction, and madcap bents.?
Young Australians denied an army job.' Why were they
First obtslained.? Must have cost some bobs." Why not
Employ them as temporaty accomodations.' Thats how
Dire things are in our nation.' I never thought this could
Be the case.' I hear of war on want.' We need breathing
Space.' A time to consider? And that is now! Start fixing
Up each country, they should not be ( cash cows ) help
Your own..' Just stop bending over' to the god of destruction 'who at the moment' has a camoflauge of
Of green clover."
Ukrainian Cemeteries
David J Walker
Strange are the faces of
The new Ukraine
Stranger still Mother Russian sons
Leaves of Lilies
And dipodies
Scattered on grounds of repatriation
Peace be unto your
Brothers in death
A price purchased
With a final breath
As unknown boots
Above the ground
Unfurl the flags of
Silent sound
To claim what’s lost
An loose what’s found
In the subtle slopes
of the Ukraine
Gambling with WWIII
Let Putin feel the power
Of the USA poker face
Invite Ukraine to the table
Stack the chips up high
Welcome their citizens
With open arms
We already send them weapons
We already send them aid
They're already a Democracy!
Let's add them to our flag
With a Star worth more than money
Worth more than fame
You've forced our hand
Let's plan to create a new US border
You won't mind if we're your neighbor
War is not a game with
Toy soldiers, greed, and the need
To level out the playing field
Stop Russia' s own manifestation
Of mind-boggling pretentiousness
Watch out Putin, here we come ...
The 51st state: Ukraine!
When is enough enough,
When is the going just too tough.
Why do people have to die
Forever in the ground to lie.
Are the spoils worth all the pain
When the path is kill and maim.
Is barren land worth just so much
Now deprived of human touch.
Do fatherless children justify the cost
Memories of a generation lost.
Weeping mothers by the score
Adding every day far more.
Politicians acting blind
To the misery resigned,
Just numbers on a sheet
Conscious only of defeat.
Pride and hubris win the day
Reason not allowed to sway.
Yet solutions need be found
Striving to be clear and sound.
Calmer voices must assist
For further slaughter to desist.
The way forward won't be fast
Searching for a peace to last.
Neither side will win outright
Time for discourse not brute might.
Russia needs restore prosperity
Ukrainians live without temerity.
I truly believe that in paradise
everything is perfect, everything is nice.
Hell, there, even souls from Russia and Ukraine
can toast newfound friendship with pink, iced champagne,
and laugh ~ about their ultimate sacrifice.
Slava Ukraini!
shroud the gallery's glass doors,
a solitary scene of grazing goats,
greets the guests along with music.
Confident, brush strokes curl muted
colors of rustic farm houses
behind broken, split-rail fences
on a cloudy Carpathian
day drawn by an artist sitting
in ruined, ravished Kherson -
a limping dog of a city
with patches of bare skin showing.
Other pictures, different story;
dark, dreadful, desolate people
in burnt, battered, bombed-out cities;
children clamber over charred wrecks
in streets strewn with bricks and debris.
Is the first picture - real or dream?
Drawn by an artist 'neath fiery missiles,
scene the artist pretends exist
to get through one more day of war?
When your name is Maksym
everyone thinks about Rilsky
but you're not Rilsky
you're far from Rilsky
what's up with Rilsky and verlibre
Rilsky and verlibre are lilac
When your name is Maksym Kryvtsov
it's immediately clear
this name is destined for success
two syllables here and there
even numbers
easy to pronounce, easy to remember
and you're up about verlibre
your verlibre is violets
When your name is Kryvtsov
you know something about death
you write an awful lot about her
beatiful, awful, a lot
a lot of metaphors on the skeleton of a poem
odd numbers
you know something
you don't know she's already here
Ukraine and our shame
Now that Ukraine is pardoning prisoners
to join the army, except the violent murderers
(one would think the violent were the right ones)
it tells us of an army scraping the barrel of
recruits, all eligible men have fled, which is
understandable, why fight a lost war, a war
not needed if a sensible head had been heard
After, the then President Zelensky, had agree
a peace pact with Russia, an English emissary
told him not to sign, upon hearing this
thousands of young men hastily left Ukraine
The fact it was an English emissary is typical
the English has hated the Russians, since
a cousin of Queen Victoria was killed by
the communists
It is sad to notice after thousands of young
men have been killed, in this futile war
the West advice is for the ex-president
to find a peaceful solution with Russia
the many newspapers which condemned
and got us to believe in the many lies told
will now tell us the way to end the war is
to sign a contract, with the old enemy
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