Mass shootings of morality
Guns make the man
Massacre happily
Ignorance leading the blind
Another casualty
Johnny has issues
He’s got an AR15
Arm everyone!
(EUREKA!!!)
Because more guns are just what we need!!!!!
Who gives a **** about Johnny and his mental instability
He’s got a gun!
It’s semi-automatic
That’s all he’ll ever need
Semi-automatic
Everyone will bleed
A few hundred rounds
He kills responsibly
A few hundred rounds
Watch as the children bleed
Just another day in America
How many more guns do we need?

We have some neighbours
That require a fence;
They're a Circus Family,
Gripping tight
On the high trapeeze.
They fared quite well,
For a high flying group;
For as long as they held on.

They stay at home,
With their children,
Full-grown,
Whinning incessantly.

Uncivility spoiled them.

They have much to say,
But do little to help
The state of their family.
There's internal strife
Arguing one's right to life;
So a tall fence should be good for me.

They point fingers,
Lay blame,
Call us names,
Act inane,
And for what?
Their House is on fire,
They believe all the liars,
They'll watch it burn
With the clown.
Burn to the ground.

Step into to her world, a world where she lives,
Of colours a plenty and flavours many,
A flick of a hand, in measures she gives,
Spices that tantalise, worth every penny.
Red chillies an ounce, turmeric a pound,
Spices scarlet, yellow, in hues exotic,
Peppercorns, cardamoms, whole or ground,
Brown bay leaves, cinnamon, aromatic.
Wonders for the body that soothe and heal,
Nurturing from nature, a stoic promise,
From the choicest gardens, as senses reel,
Fragrance of flavours in sensual bliss.

Within her world, another world entices,
Her voice in sweet whispers has tales to tell,
Magic in dark eyes, the mistress of spices,
With a flick of her hand, she’ll cast a spell.

Written in 2013

( inspired by the title of the book by Chitra Divakaruni)

Dance while you still can
Let the music whisk you in the air
Let your arms be wings
Fly, sway and swing
Dance without a care

Dance while you still can
Do the shimmy, be your own star
Feel the rhythm and the beat
Let the notes tickle your feet
Spin like Mars, forever stellar

Dance while you still can
Beat the blues and the grays
On your own or hold a hand
Dance while you still can
Dance while the music still plays

Once I caught a teardrop, I put it to good use,
I sealed it in a bottle and sent it to my Muse,
She wrote a little song, heart broken and forlorn,
And from one tiny tear, my first verse was born.

Once I caught a frown, I put it to good use,
I crumpled it like paper and sent it to my muse.
She smoothened all the furrows, gave it back to me,
And from my petty anger, she gently set me free.

Once I caught a smile, I put it to good use,
I gave it little wings and sent it to my muse . .
With a twinkle in her eyes, I could hear her say,
With laughter in your heart, may you find your way.


Once I caught a thought, I put it to good use,
On my white winged horse, I flew right up to my Muse,
With a knowing smile, she held my eager hand,
She gave me a prayer, wisdom to understand.

And when, in gratitude, I thanked my feathered Muse,
She gave me a quill and said, ‘Put it to good use’.

There strolls another father,
Scrolling while his daughter
Rides her stroller as they stroll.
He really oughtn't scroll,
She's awake as they stroll;
It's a stroller, not a scroller.

The purpose of a stroll,
Is to walk and talk the prattle,
The speach that infants rattle
While strolling in their stroller.

Sing to your child,
Stroll all the while,
Hum or whistle,
Mumble……..Grumble;
But don't silently scroll on,
While strolling with the stroller.

Recall childhood rhymes, if you can,
Say the ABCs or count to ten;
Talk of little piggies and brazen toads,
Meaningful memories,
And yellow brick roads.

Enjoy your strolling.


Enjoy your scrolling.