Contributor Posts

The streets are wet.
So are my feet.
My rain jacket,
is quite neat.
It keeps the rain
off of my back,
but my pant legs
are now quite damp.

How old must you be
to stop having a fantasy?
Is there a certain age
to be used as a gauge
and stop behaving like a teen
age boy or somewhere in between?
Perhaps there is a notion,
as we age there is no emotion.
For me, it isn't true
as I feel connected, to you.
Emotions help you to relate
and avoid being a reprobate.

A gathering of people,
all wearing a mask.
I didn't recognize a single face
until the masks were
removed. It was not
surprising as I now understood,
the wearing of masks
was partially good.

Can you avail a whale,
who's wailing at Sea?
Another stupid question,
as I now see,
the difference in words
of the wailing whale, formerly.

She walks with the grace
of a nubile dear.
A walk she has practiced
for many a year.
It is so easy for you,
to see her now.
Her movements are smooth.
I can only sigh and bow.

Another day of ugly smoke.
Another day, when I awoke.
Where is the love to see,
when we approach our history?
I tire of these words today,
hoping life is good, I say
find another to write about.
I'll find my own way out.

So the Covid-in-Chief knew how deadly the virus was back in the beginning, just didn’t want to scare us. The Head Cheerleader wanted to paint a smiley face on the coronavirus, tell us it would fade away, tell us it was contained, tell us we didn’t need to wear masks or avoid crowded bars, assure us there was nothing to fear here. Right. This from the Town Crier whose doom and gloom messages about everything from immigrant caravans to socialist takeovers are intended to scare the pants off every undecided voter in the country.

Our cities are burning! Looters and rioters and those liberal Democrats have run amok in left wing urban enclaves. Illegal immigrants are flooding into white America, raping and killing and selling our kids drugs. Crime is rampant. The cops are being handcuffed by socialist legislatures. If Biden is elected, the stock market will crash, the economy will plunge, the coming Depression will be like nothing we’ve ever seen.

This is the stuff of a calming cheerleader? One who doesn’t want to incite panic in the population? Gimme a break, the man would scream Fire! in a crowded maskless theater if he thought it might get him some votes from the survivors. No way do any rational people, if there are any left, think Donald J. Trump wanted to spare us undue hysteria. We’ve had three plus years of anxiety, fear, terror and dread. You sleep okay at night wondering about this guy’s finger on the Big Red Button? Even his fixer, Michael Cohen, will tell you this narcissist would say and do anything to stay in office. If cranking up the fear factor would work, he’s all in.

But … in my fair and balanced way, let me add that when he met with the Californians while their forests and suburbs burned, he didn’t yell Fire! No, he assured them that global warming was a hoax and science wasn’t always right. In fact, or something he’d like to think is fact, the world will grow colder instead. Soon. You wait and see, he told us. Great Leaders sometimes have to put a positive spin on catastrophe. And if a positive spin on catastrophe makes a man a great leader, well, need anyone say more? I know I’m feeling a definite chill in the air.

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The well is empty like my head.
There are no words, but instead
Just a desire to go back to bed.
My sleep is long but I toss and turn
For trying to sleep I must earn.
I know if I do not get some rest
The sleep I'll get may be a test
Of my will, or well it will depend
Upon what you say, my old friend.

I'm having a difficult time
trying to write, as all
the words and music are
rattling in my head. " A little
more conversation.." in my brain.
It is something I can't explain.
A little more thought, a little
more work and the words
I write will pollute the air.
I am trying to breathe.
Sorry for the rant. I thought.
There I go again, thinking, if
I would write what is now
in my head, I could free up
some space and write my
words instead.

I need you now.
I need you to see.
I am not the wretch,
You thought I would be.
I am better than before.
I wish there was a way,
I could divide in two,
For I have so many things
I now need to do.

It takes a steady hand, it will
to put a thread through a needles eye.
In my youth, I acquired this skill
but find myself, on this day
unable to put the thread away,
into the eye, no matter how I try.
With shaky hand and a tremor there,
I find the thread goes everywhere,
except where it should, through the eye
and so I continue to try, try and try.

I live with your Mother,
she has a wandering mind.
If you do not call her
she'll think you are unkind.
Our days are numbered
on this Earth divine
so please call your Mother,
any old time.