a professional boxer steps inside
the ring to defeat his opponent.
he worries not about counting
the punches that land; hands raised
in victory is paramount. lose not
the sight of the ultimate goal.
the ultimate aristocrat
would share his wealth just like that
not spoiled at all, not a brat
a humble listener, King Cole Gnat
He exudes excess flexibility
Soothing forlorn subjects at his knee
Understanding his responsibility
a fantastic member of the aristocracy
My muse
I love you
You are my strength on weak days
I live for doing you
You are my ultimate pleasure.
It's long past time they put a dent in crime,
'How?' is the question, now here's a suggestion...
America could emulate Saudi Arabia
where the executioner who with a sword
beheads their criminals publicly in the square
and has the final say the very last word
then again there are those in the U.S.A.
who would like to end their days
as a spectacle on the world stage
yet the threat of death does not faze
meanwhile the taxpayer pays through the nose
to help those now on death row survive
with TV workouts free sex three hots and a cot
but as they've been proven guilty why are they still alive?
What is the ultimate goal,
To be happy or healthy
Sexy, powerful or wealthy?
What about something beyond
Conception or expression,
Something beyond
What you can have
Or ever, even hold?
We all know what the ultimate goal is
Because it is our true nature.
And yet obliviously we stumble on
Forward ever forward
Into an ever progressing
Idealized progressive future
That bears no resemblance
To our true nature.
What is our true nature?
The something
That is a nothing,
Ineffable and yet known
Inescapably
Within our bones,
Within all our bones.
A something that is a nothing, that is us.
(11/4/25)
Our love and lust shall last through our reincarnations forever,
Because to me nobody one else will ever matter
More than who you are to me as my ultimate lover.
Time
the ultimate
arbiter
of good and bad
Time
the final judge
and jury
— of right and wrong
(Dreamsleep: August, 2025)
City light dazzles the eyes of man
But the spell of corruption has an iron hand
It blocks the truth and holds one down
Till chaos and confusion is only found
Children are born innocent and pure
Have no way out of the lure
Generations of greed, jealousy and pain
Create a state of living in vain
The universal law holds the key
The door is open for all to see
A thread of hope can guide ones stay
For those who wish to improve their way
Choose each stepping-stone with care
For every action the soul will wear
Return to the core of one’s true self
Truth, compassion, tolerance is true wealth
1992, a precious teaching was revealed
The great universal law, Falun Dafa is real
Truth can arouse the deepest of souls
Return to one’s true self is the ultimate goal
The ultimate process is living life.
We can learn everything through love and strife.
It’s not just the content that fills each day,
Living in the moment teaches the way.
Find your true self and learn secrets untold,
Inside is wisdom and truth to behold.
Overcoming struggles helps us to grow.
Learning to love helps us go with the flow.
Created uniquely one of each kind,
How we’re created, not known to man’s mind.
Likely created from pure intellect,
Known only through perfection, I suspect.
A perfect design became creation,
Without a hint of an explanation.
I went on a trip
A smile highlighted on my lip
I was watching at the trees
They started giving me a different peace
The leaves were fluttering in a pattern
Which seemed as a light coming from a lantern
The clouds were seeming to mesmerize
I started the act with them for melodize
When I was going to leave
The nature started to weave
It was a message for life
Containing love, happiness and not to strife
THE ULTIMATE NATURE OF WAR
Sown love reaps world peace,
While sown hate will reap world war:
Power its sower:-
Sharers of love will sow peace:
Profiteers of war, sow hate:-
World peace uprooted,
War’s deforestation plows
World devastation:-
Armageddon coming:
God plowing us a new day:-
Be ever mindful,
War is a power monger’s
Child of destruction;
And will be chastised by God:
Its navel giver uprooted:-
Big Ben chimes again
With Bazball zen
One of those men
From special stock
Shepherd of the flock
Hewn from strewn Volcanic rock
From New Zealand's Southern Isle
But only there for a wee while
Mighty flame haired flair laird
Without doubt more about Blighty's North East
They forged this bellicose beast
Ripsnorting sporting cavorting squire
Glutton & gourmand gorged feast
Test town crier
Puffed buffed chest
Inspire..burning
Proper copper topper
Churning fire..
Endless zest..desire
No dull lull
No bore draw
Simple...aspire
To score more!
It's not arcane
Stokes campaign & reign
Train like you're insane
Always entertain!
Remember us flounder
In the gutter
Trounced...17 on the bounce
Could we have found
Pound for pounder
Better all rounder
Nutter...go getter
Sounder founder
Run rate record setter
Of the evolution
And revolution
Of Test cricket
Toe to toe
Blow by blow
Heave ho
Give us a ticket
In the Baz ball or
Ben buzz grotto
Gung Ho motto
You will never know
Till you give it a go!
They came with dust on their boots and a morning star,
Shadows of boyhood still clinging to their shoulders—
They were sons of the land, faces bright with the dew,
Carrying small, cherished photographs in their breast pockets.
They rose with the sun’s trumpet call at dawn,
A summons to arms, to fear, to death—
Yet they did not tremble,
They carried the burden like a hymn on their lips.
Mothers with hands trembling at kitchen sinks
Counted each day as an offering—
Each letter a balm, each silence a wound.
Their prayers rose with the smoke of factory chimneys.
The beaches were gardens of iron and flame,
Where the sea’s voice met the cry of youth—
The soil drank of their blood,
And the wind carried the story homeward.
O Freedom—your price is the soft hush of sacrifice,
The echo of a last goodbye in the night—
They sleep in quiet fields now,
Their names folded in the flag’s bright embrace.
Pride blooms in the hearts of those they left behind—
A tender ache, a candle that will not be quenched.
We walk in their footsteps, grateful and small,
Ever humbled by the price they paid for us all.
Nachman was a revered Sage
The greatest of his age
One day he came to his stand
Armless! What had happened?
The next day, no legs either
His students, now in a fever
On the morrow, his body covered with boils
Panic set in – Was that the reward for all of Nachman's toils?
Asked if to teach, he still could
He replied ~ ‘What happens is all for the good’
~ Adapted from part of the tale in the Talmud
of 'Nachum, Ish Gam-zo,' meaning 'Nachum,
the man who says, "This too is for the good."
Tractate Ta'anis / Fasting - Chapter Three,
page 10b
A girl from the Folies Bergere
Manoeuvred her feathers with care.
One night, to a gasp,
They slipped from her grasp
And there she stood totally bare
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