Unsuppression
Exact wild convoluted digressions
Dispatched rap to re ramp tan
Hide all important novelties
As I confuse the vile
Stagnations the ball sawed dust till
Legends found tall
Ballerina indignant
The definition that wouldn't kiss
She wanted rules in verbs
Out of poison
Longing for idiom
We played out a sunlight
So I could pass on to heaven
What he might
A long a line in times
Well righting zincs
Wipe after wipe
I built a heart she never lept
Four cloves to the heart did grow
And removed her shucks from my lies
Brexit
Inspired by one witty Nate White, of Britain
I vote him in a year ago
Vainglory man with orange glow
We didn’t have another choice
The country spoke, a single voice
I hate him not, he is the boss
There’s way his power comes across
So much revealed as time goes
For us to find and him disclose
No class, no charm, no wit, but troll
No warmth at all in present role
No wisdom, honor, humor, grace
Insults dispatched when face-to-face
He can be nasty, don’t show soul
He bashes heads to reach one’s goal
Lack of nuance and spite don’t stop
Behaves like bull in china shop
Offensive, crass, with shallow scope
We pray and watch, while harbor hope
For better life and worldly peace
He's mostly driven by caprice
Not man of word, give and withdraw
Commits to Russia win the war
He shakes the world to see what comes
Yet some big plans are yielding crumbs
Ain’t no compassion, noble not
Aims cutting Middle Eastern knot
Amusing? No, this isn’t the case
Who are you, Mr. Orange Face?
August 30, 2025
The in's and yarns of the third sight
Fellow humans fetched a yard
Pulled a Soviet scarf
It was golden enchanted
With real's of wheels spinning round and not, the balance is shaken.
The aim is not to blink fast
Inhale the axial, breath in sequence
Notify the brain's awaken mode
Straighten the sight not to be blindfolded
Foolish acts combined with luring spirits
The wave cannot disappear
It needs to be dispatched
Up, up high
Where there's Atmos lies a layer of retreat
Watched like a time frame fragments
They are sculptured with symbols of shrine to blend and bind
The wine evaporates the pain yet in vain
It cost a dying calmer
The ridges of peace, belong in kind
So more less in the South, far way back up to the North
Ashleigh Ngoqo
Lyrics come to me by moonlight
When the power of darkness lessens
When whispers soften like overripe
Mangoes dispatched hurriedly from India,
On ramshackle East Indiamen vessels
Sailing fruitfully through consternated
Waters and heated lines of the tropics,
Selling rewardingly on busy markets
Charged with the power of buy-and-sell,
And order-and-supply.
I wonder how Bob would react to
My girlfriend’s long and big, sexy hair
Blowin’ in the wind,
Seeking answers to horizon-tossed questions,
When howling, racing gales accompany
Frightened sorrel horses, newly freed from
Spavins, and spiked by the energy of the sun,
Hurtle home happily towards old and battered
Picket fences newly mended?
I write often under the spell of night rain,
Striving much not to blend lyrics with poems,
Which, like zucchini and cucumber,
May look alike but are quite different.
I stumble upon the fraternity between words
And promises and splice them with soft, nimble
Fingers of the piano.
Gentle taps yonder come from happily sobbing congas.
And with an unseen ensemble, a song is born.
An ornithologist of renown
studied every bird in town.
Indeed this vaunted scholar of worth
catalogued each tweeting thing on EARTH.
Quickly and thoroughly he dispatched
all those creatures that ever hatched.
There's only one he didn't tackle.
I'm afraid that was the grackle.
vast wonder-scape
expanse
variegated flora silent joy
confetti heat-swirl rise
oaken nesting suites sprinkled
seedlings dispatched on cue
avian and apis
propagate
~~~~~~~~~~~
(design)
Gila monster broke out of his cage,
stole some ammo and Pappy’s twelve gauge.
On a low grassy knoll, he
dispatched the anole
in a cold-blooded, reptilian rage.
To pick a pumpkin, I have found,
It’s best to choose one nice and round
And if you are the one dispatched,
Select one with the stem attached.
The orange color of the fall
Is universal to them all,
So just be sure there’s no surprise
In what you buy regarding size.
Then make your choice or choices and
Do with your pumpkins what you’ve planned -
For jack-o-lanterns or display
Will brighten everybody’s day.
The rumor spread that the deceased was dispatched, a reason,
to the morgue
Last night, the dark spring and the dense night
Whence the moon of the eve, sank beyond sight
The mayhem arose with a wishful death, verily his own, to disown.
The bride was sleeping beside-the newborn too.
There was love, aspiration, moonlight - yet perception revealed
A shapeshifter bogus boo, who? Why was the sleepy one then, awakened?
Or, sleepless time, did not tame, so long for so long! the morgue would for the deceased!
Aspiration declared this say, this sleep!
With a bloody face and the mouse of the plague, drafter time
Took her lap in the darkest night, the sleep, this time
Never to feel awakened again!
1:37 PM
9-3-2024
When I was walking in the zoo,
I saw a strange and wondrous sight.
You would have found in funny too,
Unlikely creatures in a fight.
I saw a strange and wondrous sight,
A hippo fighting with a cat.
Hyenas really laughed at that.
You would have found it funny too.
The pair were really not well matched.
Of course the cat was soon dispatched.
Unlikely creatures in a fight.
But cats have nine lives as you know
And so he still has eight to go
Guinevere
Was King Arthur's darling dear,
Once day, she said, "I'm sorry M'Lord,
I gave your nephew, Mordred, your sword".
Mordred was not a man one should entrust.
King Arthur was a bit more than nonplussed.
Guinevere said, "Don't sweat it",
But the king would regret it,
As the weasel dispatched him with a thrust.
The Knights of the Round Table all missed him and cried -
Were Lancelot and Guinivere sorry he died?
Well, Sir Lance furrowed his handsome brow, and said "heck,
We should legislate a sword control background check."
Happened upon black-eyed Susans,
so bright and beautiful. I stopped
and looked, snapped
a picture with my cell, drew back
breath and sighed; eyed
with appreciation, didn’t matter
where I found this gregarious garden
before I set out on
an inside adventure
with books. But stunned
by the sunny disposition
of this carefree crop,
my eyes popp’n with pure joy.
I soaked up the inverted petals.
I just wrote about your yellow suds,
and oh how they froth and yield
a smile - on my lips, in my eyes,
and my heart. How
do, perennials! I will forget your patch
but another bouquet will be dispatched.
In afterglow
I fill my bag with poets:
Hughes, Frost, Angelou, Greger
and Glück. You see
I’ve already moved on,
forgotten thee.
Leaving the library.
I am Nobody:
no name on my grave
in the Veterans’ Cemetery --
not even certain if all parts
match – those bombs really
had no personal objective when
targeting and dispatched –
Their bull’s eyes~ all Enemy.
I am Nobody; don’t earn
a lot, after your release from
the hospital, once healed,
you never met the EMT
who feverishly pumped life
into your failing lungs, during your
rushed, siren screaming journey
through unyielding traffic --
probably never thanked the nurse
in the ER, with a name-tag,
often gone unread – Oh, you met
the doctor, who earns all the big
bread – He has a noble title – he
has lauded fame – unlike Nobodies
more or less, diminutive
the same – just Nobody --
the Nobodies who build the bridges
repair the roads
pickup the garbage
often given little more mention
than prince-less pond toads –
when I croak, Just a slimy
soak – in society, most Nobodies
die broke – soggy, irrelevant
pond splashes –
Only rich when considering love...
One hundred eighty one days ago today,
Jews began their day, as usual in every way.
Jumped out of their beds and prayers. were said.
They dressed and fixed coverlets on their beds.
Mothers cooking breakfeast…but not for very long.
As killers with bullets ended their morning songs.
Safe Rooms were to be a place to run and hide,
But many were killed instantly in this crimson tide.
These people, living in peace and loving harmony,
Were slaughtered,not significant enough for poetry?
Their older children at the Nova concert for peace,
Met death at dawn or were taken hostages, like sheep.
And while we get our trophies and POTDs’
Jews and Americans still hostages, are important to me.
1,200, savagely killed, the morning of October Seventh.
By methods, so heinous, and were dispatched to heaven!
The sadness, has never left my Noahide, weeping soul.
But to have others, never forget,is a significant life’s goal.
This was a horrid, bloody, pogrom in my very own lifetime..
And loss as horrid as this, is to be remembered is soulful rhyme.
4/7/2024
that call, a face
porcelain
pressed against glass
and dead eyes wrought
from an attic room
watching us
her name badge was
irrelevant
“No, those top rooms
are not used, full
of junk and all locked up”
yet the face watched us
leave; into
the further ghosts
of night
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