Go away from here,
go away now.
Who do you think your are?
Will we have to bow?
You "pocket sized" ruler,
with your red tie too long.
Try being truthful
just once in your life.

What can I do?
What can I say,
When you leave me
Here in my dismay.

The good old days are now gone.
The lives lost in this virus run,
Be they daughter, husband, wife or son.
A much too early return to work
Or the open a business, to crowds,
Was poor judgement, if it was used.
It now appears the citizens were confused,
As our leader, said it will be gone
In mid April, when it is warm.
Wrong again, with your guessing game,
As you violate any sense of reason.
Not wearing a mask. It is your claim
The petulant child you; are to blame.
May Karma grab you by your shirt
And plant your face into the dirt.

Why wax and wain
of a sad refrain.
It makes no sense,
in this experience,
when whines and cries
portend our demise.

The randomness of words,
lay on my plate.
Too many words may come
and they will suffocate.
The thoughts that are now
running through my head,
wishing they were happy,
but No; fearful instead
The words have become hateful;
not what they should be,
for I care for my own
and for strangers too,
as life has given pause
of what one can do.
A scary situation. It's been hard,
for if you are not diligent
and let your down your guard
you could be the victim
of Co-vid nineteen.

I do not like
the words that I write,
for some are cruel
and others quite trite.
Has the hate of one person
ruined my one good trait,
or must I rethink the words
and I can write and wait?

I pray to the heavens.
I utter no sound,
For my prayer in
Words, cannot be found.
I pray for the souls
Of those struck down,
By the virus, Pro-vid 19;
One of the words pandemic
The World has ever seen.
What do we do?
Where do we stand
When it has been months
And there still is no Plan.
No plan from the current regime,
Who doesn't care one little ounce,
But looks only at the Stock market bounce.
A terrible choice, at least to me
As the decisions made, lives in infamy.

Blow ye hard, wind of mine.
Rid this nation of hate entwine.
Flee from here, you shameful man,
Inciting divisions as only you can.

Accept not the blame for your act.
Keep up your lies, untruth and fact.
Run this Fall, if you must.
How to do when there is no trust?

Let all the citizens; let them see
The full extent of your own hypocrisy.
Run for re-election and when you fail,
Perhaps the next place is Federal jail.

Down the path, like a runaway car,
the lives now lost, near and far.
You care not; that's easy to see,
as your lies will live an eternity.
As a president you are the worst,
when your lies cause your World to burst.
Citizens both far and near,
want to know when you'll disappear,
in the coming months, it will do
for next November, please vote Blue.

The words are dead,
and they shall remain
dead forever
in life's stupid game.

I cannot say these
words to thee
nor write them
for you to see.

You get more bored
when watching TV,
as you now say,
telling it to me.

The ache in my back,
the words in my head,
have caused me to leave
my warm, toasty bed.

Why is that? Oh, I don't suppose
any one will answer the question,
or throw up your hands. Heaven knows.

Words are peculiar; some need to soften
for when I write them down,
I may use them quite often.
I write until my pen runs dry
and grab another, giving it a try.
It writes so faintly I utter a cry.
"For Pete's sake, leave me alone."
So into the trash it must go.
Two pens in one sitting, kind of absurd
as the last pen is sticking.
I like to write, using a pen,
for if I err, I must write it again.

I sit here, with pen in hand,
wracking my brain. I do not understand,
why the words won't come again; flow free
and pop into my head so willingly.

A far away land
at distance to thee,
is where I will wander,
when I search for me.
Travel today
is not the best choice,
unless sitting in a tube
is cause to rejoice.
Crammed into the can
of a cabin of size,
leaves no space to breathe
or to optimize,
the safety you need.
Lord please help me,
complete my next deed.

I don't understand
and I can't see,
why there is a sudden
interest in me.

Have I done something
to make your life worse
or is it because you don't
like the words in my verse?

I wish I knew.
I hope that now,
the next time I see you
you will allow
a virtual hug.

Can you go home again,
when you're sixty-five
and none of you parents,
are still alive?

A waft of smoke
from the small fire,
with intense heat,
stoking a new desire,
to live once more,
under the bright star
and to be the man
you know you are.

Sitting around a campfire at night
the front of you is warm.
Your back is cold as ice.
Telling stories of days gone by;
embellishing as needed
to maintain the lie.

There is no comfort
in sitting here,
unless of course
the cold will disappear.

The song you sang,
I've heard before.
About a lost love,
not here anymore.
I know not of love.
I'll say it once more,
for my personal feelings
lay on the floor.
No feeling of despair .
No feeling of loss.
No feeling to care
about another person.
It's not for me
or the pain in my heart.
It is still there with thee
as my soul tears apart.

A garden child, I am,
as I sit here,
amongst the green
a most pretty scene.

Heading South.
Going bad.
Your the best
Thing I've had.

It's not too late,
I'll tell you so,
But it is hate,
Stealing the show.

Not hate for you
For this I know.
It is for fate,
Which takes your Soul.

There is no cure
For this terrible plight,
But it helps not
Through the dark night.

What can I do
To keep you now?
Bringing back the joy
For loving you.

I must go now, I really must.
Trust is a word, used by a few,
I trust not others but do trust you.
I will do so until I have turned to dust.