Magazine Posts

An economy before containment:
a prescription for viral disaster.
A crazy one you are
and lie you must.
May your wretched soul
soon turn to dust.

Bangers and mash,
some Shepherds pie,
taste good to me
and so I'll try,
a pint of beer,
while evening is nigh,
it will soon disappear,
as will I.

Blind obedience to what is said,
if you listen to all his lies
most of us will be dead.
What kind of man, in our town
whose lies, every day are so profound.
Put on your suit, you ridiculous clown.

It's 6 AM on a Sunday morn.
The furnace came on, once again.
I hear a noisy splatter
of a cold, falling rain.
I sit here writing, of what
I never know,
for 3 hours of sleep in not enough
to rest this aged body of mine.
Perhaps I just need to wonder,
about the way our life, went away.
Never to return, at least not today.

I'm laying awake,
looking at thee,
when I remember,
my thoughts tenderly,
of when we met
so many years ago.
How our life's changed,
today in this World,
but when I see you,
you're still a young girl.

I have long ago wondered,
of when I succumb,
it would be the result
of something, stupid or dumb.

Rose is the flower,
you wore in your hair,
when our life was of love,
not of todays despair.
What cruel fate is
here on this day,
when we are now,
in the middle of May?
Where have you gone,
what will you say,
when you no longer recall
all of our yesterdays?

A grassy knoll,
A sunny day,
A pleasant scene,
A short nap,
Now to dream.
Dream of Sunlight
And how it plays,
As our lives move;
The end of days.

My hand is aching.
So is my thumb.
Writing with Arthritis
Has to be dumb.

When evil looks you in the eye,
don't hesitate, wonder not why,
for the strength of truth,
not the weakness of a lie,
is always best; worth a try.
Step to the booth, made for you
casting your ballot. Vote Blue

Flying by the seat of your pants,
is not a National Plan.

Excuse me! I must of lost count
of all this "Winning" that's not about.