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Jim Healey Poem
Supercallousfascistracistsexistnazipotus.
Yes the combination of those words sounds quite atrocious.
Clearly it describes a guy with serious psychosis.
Supercallousfascistracistsexistnazipotus.
The President of USA is really a big chump.
He spreads all kinds of nonsense when he is on the stump.
And when he got elected everybody was in shock.
Maybe he can talk the talk but he can't walk the walk.
Oh, supercallousfascistracistsexistnazipotus.
Yes the combination of those words sounds quite atrocious.
Clearly it describes a guy with serious psychosis;
supercallousfascistracistsexistnazipotus.
He's travelled all around the world and everywhere he goes
the people turn and shake their heads because he really blows.
When kings and queens and ministers all spend a day with him,
they all are in agreement that he's really f-ing dim.
Oh, supercallousfascistracistsexistnazipotus.
Looking at his food he risks arteriosclerosis.
Response from neighbors far and wide is turning quite ferocious.
Supercallousfascistracistsexistnazipotus.
The economic diagnosis' looking mighty grim.
His chance of reelection - hope to God - is very slim.
Everyone around the world is praying a great hymn
that he'll move to Gaza and purchase a kibbutzim!
Oh, supercallousfascistracistsexistnazipotus.
Looking at his food he risks arteriosclerosis.
Response from neighbors far and wide is turning quite ferocious.
Supercallousfascistracistsexistnazipotus.
Copyright © Jim Healey | Year Posted 2025
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Jim Healey Poem
The secret to success is to simply stop.
Stop seeking attention.
Stop arguing with those who gossip.
Stop listening to lies.
Stop squabbling for your rights with stupid people.
Stop searching for the negative in...anything.
Stop fighting small fights.
Stop sweating the small stuff.
Just. Simply. Stop.
Copyright © Jim Healey | Year Posted 2024
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Jim Healey Poem
So, Justin Trudeau's gonna retire
(something Canadians did desire).
But he's left a big mess,
and Trump's causing stress!
It's a political dumpster fire!
Copyright © Jim Healey | Year Posted 2025
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Jim Healey Poem
Where is the shining city upon a hill? It may be out there…somewhere. But its lights have dimmed… There are dark shadows where little or no light shines.
Where is this beacon of hope? The eyes of all people are now searching… It seems the city on a hill has become little more than a rumor beset by threats without and chaos within.
It was said that the city was constructed by people aware of a great responsibility and they came from everywhere… they did not come as black, white, red or yellow… they did not come as Christians, Muslims or Jews… nor as conservatives or liberals, Republicans or Democrats. They came from all corners of the earth… and they came to be Americans… awed by what had come before and proud to be where they were.
It was a proud city built on foundations stronger than storms and seas… blessed by God - whatever they conceived God to be – teeming with people just wanting to live in harmony and peace.
And if the city had walls then the walls had doors and the doors were never locked… They were open for anyone with the will and the heart to get there.
The city on a hill had a glow that held steady no matter what storm… a beacon for those from forsaken places struggling through the darkness to where there was warmth, brightness and safety… a place they could truly call home.
But gradually, the city began to crumble insidiously from within: the pillars that held it in place slowly eroded… erosions created by prejudice – ad hoc and systemic. Now the erosion, decline and decadence pervade from the top and trickles downward spreading its poison… A hellstorm is lurking.
And yet… in spite of the darkness, light still shines. The shining city on a hill may recover because we have to believe that
love trumps anger, hope trumps fear,
optimism trumps despair.
And we’ll just keep on keeping on.
Copyright © Jim Healey | Year Posted 2024
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Jim Healey Poem
A better name for an octopus?
It's tough to make stuff up.
We could start with a brand-new appellation.
How about a name like "Suction Pup"?!
Or perhaps we could start the debate
with a numerical tag like "Ocean's Eight".
Another name open for discussion
would be a handle like "Squid's Cousin".
Still another, somewhat grandiloquent,
could be the rather pompous "Inknificent".
My Scottish friends, with joy, will weep
if the new label is "Bagpipes of the Deep"!
Or one can almost hear sailors shout "Ahoy!
Is that a rock? No, it's an Ol' Tangly Boy!"
Copyright © Jim Healey | Year Posted 2025
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Jim Healey Poem
The freeze-thaw, freeze-thaw
of Newfoundland winters
plays havoc with the pavement.
Cracks become divots.
Divots become potholes.
Potholes become trenches.
Trenches become craters.
Exaggeration? No, not really!
And what lies buried beneath?
A treasure trove of history and mystery
rarely, if ever, to be uncovered.
The past in the past in the past...
in the present.
We stand on the shoulders
of all those who came before
until, one day,
we become a part of before.
Pause for thought.
Copyright © Jim Healey | Year Posted 2025
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Jim Healey Poem
Former Attorney General Pam Bondi
will never be confused with Mahatma Gandhi!
She was head of the Dictator Tot's retribution campaign
but, thankfully, her efforts were mostly in vain.
Copyright © Jim Healey | Year Posted 2026
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Jim Healey Poem
Jim
Loyal, dependable, knowledgeable, big hockey fan,
Brother of Craig and Jeff,
Lover of democracy, the Toronto Maple Leafs and Newfoundland,
Who feels love, empathy and pain,
Who fears failure, loss and going insane,
Who would like to see peace in Gaza, Ukraine and South Sudan,
Resident of St. John's, Newfoundland,
Healey.
My wife and partner is Heather.
She's the one who keeps me grounded; she is my center.
We've been happily married for twenty-five years,
and our love - the deepest kind of love - perseveres.
Copyright © Jim Healey | Year Posted 2024
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Jim Healey Poem
Though I live where the climate is harsh,
I enjoy the eternal change of seasons,
and the change from summer to autumn
is my favorite for just one reason.
This change always happens in the month of September
when heat gives way to cool and the air is so much mellower.
Copyright © Jim Healey | Year Posted 2025
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Jim Healey Poem
Sweet
precious
beautiful
scion of mine;
feeling so humbled
seeing this miracle;
he is a pure gift that comes
from no less than heaven above
and it is no small thing that he who
has arrived fresh from God's glory loves me.
Copyright © Jim Healey | Year Posted 2024
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