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Alan W Jankowski Oct 2016
A con man rolled into town,
With a funny looking wig.
Made a lot of promises,
Everything will be really big.

He claims he doesn’t like immigrants,
Says they cause a lot of strife,
But you certainly would never know,
By looking at his imported wife.

And he doesn’t like Muslims,
And forget it if you’re black.
And as for those pesky Mexicans,
He’s sending them all back.

He says he has a really big plan,
To cure America’s ills,
But you got to wonder about a guy,
Who can’t even pay his own bills.

He has experience in business,
His bankruptcies total four,
And with a temperament like his,
We’ll soon be in another war.

Spews a whole lot of hot air,
That he can improve the current state,
Never says anything definite,
But don’t worry it’ll all be great.

He wants to close the internet,
And the border to the South,
But if he’s going to close anything,
Please let it be his mouth.

Oh he makes a lot of promises,
And they’re all as fake as his hair,
And the saddest part about it,
Is his followers just don’t care.

Just my thoughts on the subject...and this is about as political as I'll ever get...
Alan W Jankowski Apr 2016
To some the world revolves around them,
And nothing else can matter.
They’ll do anything to reach that end,
Including endless idle chatter.

They walk around like “Hey look at me.”
And are only happy when you do.
They’re like an exhibit for all to see,
Like an animal in a zoo.

Nowadays they’re on the net, joining many a site,
And they bully everyone around.
They’ll be on the computer, day and night,
If some attention can be found.

If they start with you, pay them no mind,
It’s the best thing you can do.
I can guarantee their words won’t be kind,
When they start attacking you.

They’re attention ******, as they’re known,
Or trolls as some may say.
They’re like little kids who’ve never grown,
They always have to have their way.

So take my advice, and don’t feed the trolls,
Because they’ll just create a scene.
They are the cyber world’s lost souls,
They are evil and they’re mean.

Inspired by some recent events on another site...
Alan W Jankowski Mar 2016
Flowers bloom, the Winter thaw,
Outside the songbirds sing.
With the arrival of the bluebirds,
I know that it is Spring.

But listening to the bird’s songs,
And watching the flowers bloom.
I can’t but help myself,
For feeling a certain gloom.

For I find myself a bit jealous,
As the flowers start anew,
So often I wish I could do the same,
If I just knew what to do.

This was written for "The Year Of The Poet March 2016" on Inner Child Press...
Alan W Jankowski Mar 2016
This day is yours, it belongs to you,
Do anything that you desire to do.
Watch your favorite shows, eat your favorite food,
Do anything that puts you in a good mood.

Your friends are here to celebrate too,
This day is yours, it belongs to you.
You’ve been working too hard, you need a break,
Sit down and have another piece of cake.

Open the presents your friends have bought,
You can see they’ve given this plenty of thought.
This day is yours, it belongs to you,
So spend it joyfully with your favorite crew.

Just here to wish you Happy Birthday,
That’s really all we have to say.
And may your dreams all come true,
This day is yours, it belongs to you.

A birthday poem written by request of a friend over on Facebook...
Alan W Jankowski Feb 2016
She’s hot and wet when she greets me in the morning,
I know of no better way to wake up.
And when I need her she is always there,
She fills my loving cup.

It is an affair that has been going on for years,
And she will continue to comfort when I’m old.
When I am down she perks me up,
She warms me when I am cold.

Dark and bold she comes to me,
More beautiful than any sunrise.
Like a gypsy with her magic charms,
She has the power to open tired eyes.

Though some folks may criticize her,
Pointing out her mother’s a Columbian nut.
And yes, those South Americans are a bit hot-blooded,
But I just smile and say “So what?”

For coffee and I are partners in life,
From her I will never stray.
And should anyone try to get between us,
They will surely rue the day.

I believe that more than a few here can relate to this one...
Alan W Jankowski Oct 2015
Two young brothers are left at home,
All by their lonesome selves,
The older one notices a new toy,
Sitting high up on a shelf.

He climbs up and brings on down,
What he believes is a toy gun,
He thinks about the games they’ll play,
Boy this sure will be fun.

He aims the ‘toy’ at his little brother,
And shoots him in the head,
But that gun was not a toy at all,
And soon the three-year-old is dead.

When a child dies,
All the stuffed animals cry,
Alone on a shelf,
They sit by themselves,
In a cold lonely room,
Like a final tomb.

Johnny’s tired of being bullied at school,
But every dog has its day,
Though all his classmates seem so mean,
Johnny will make sure they all pay.

The next day at school will be different,
From a knapsack he pulls out a gun,
Suddenly he starts shooting his classmates,
Shoots them in the back as they run.

Soon most of the class has been shot,
And their young bodies are lying there dead,
With one bullet left in the chamber,
Johnny puts the gun to his own head.

When a child dies,
All the angels cry,
The tears flowing down,
On the sad little town,
It’s a cold, cold rain,
But it won’t numb the pain.

For Jose this is the biggest day in his life,
It’s his gang initiation in the ‘hood,
He must seek out a rival gang member,
With a couple of shots he’ll be good.

Jose packs his piece and extra clips,
And his driver takes him to the spot,
He takes aim at his helpless victim,
And another is dead with just one shot.

But that one bullet it ricocheted,
You hear a young mother scream and cry,
As she realizes her young son is hit,
On a cold dark street he is left to die.

When a child dies,
The whole world cries,
All lives matter, big and small,
I ask you people, heed the call,
Please stop the hate, before it’s too late,
For the future of us all.

Written for the upcoming book "World Healing, World Peace Poetry 2016" on Inner Child Press...
Alan W Jankowski Apr 2015
Dedicated to combat veterans and PTSD sufferers, wherever they may be...thank you for your service...*

An Enemy That Haunts My Mind...

In the middle of the night I lie in bed,
Fighting an enemy that’s in my head.
An enemy that’s always there,
An enemy that won’t play fair.
An enemy that haunts my mind,
An enemy that is not kind.
The price paid for doing good,
Of doing like I’m told I should.
Serving my country in time of war,
Who could ever ask for more?
And now even in my deepest dreams,
All I hear is the sound of screams.
Why was I the one to survive?
Why was I the one left alive?
I ask myself every night,
As I relive every fight.
God, please call me home,
Don’t leave me here all alone.
For when I thought the fight was won,
I’m finding the battle’s just begun.
A soldier who was trained to ****,
Finds a battle that’s harder still.
Fighting an enemy I cannot see,
And finding out the enemy is me.
An enemy that haunts my mind,
An enemy that is not kind.

Recently published in a charity anthology to benefit veteran's's the website....
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