Let us all plant a tree
To help save Earth
Less pollution
No global warming
No disasters
Do care.

Shell ✨🐚

Have you considered,
AI might not be outpacing us,
We as a people,
Might just be slowing down.

Becoming more reliant,
On robotics,
That we've made so many,
Our mistakes are catching up to us.

If your vying for change in Gaza you could start by feeding their women and children ...

White, black, green, and red,
Waving a flag.
Let the world know
There is a right to be alive—
The people of Palestine have,
In their own olive land.

I think the solution is this.

The Israelis come to live

in Ireland and we go there.

They could begin cleansing

the non ethnic Scottish and

lowlife English settlers from

the north, all of whom could

be eradicated using the same

holocaust techniques as they

are employing in Palestine.

Island life would be best for

the Jews because nobody

want to be anywhere near

them. Meanwhile the Blue

line in Lebanon would be

green and the Irish would

slowly convert Muslims to

Guinness and Gaelic games.

Hamas Houthi and Hezbollah

could retire on IRA pensions

from the new Irishstine state.

Whew!
Glad I live here,
And not there.

Orange man, you like to kneel down,
I said, Orange man, you shine like a clown,
I said, Orange man, you smile with a frown,
There's no need to be unhappy.

Orange man, there's a place you can go,
I said, Orange man, it's your rodeo,
You can stay there, with those of your ilk
Who tweets lies, cheats, bleats and bilks...

You can stay at the F.B.O.P
You're barred at the F.B.O.P.

They have everything for old men to enjoy
You can hang out with all the boys...

You'll have fun at the F.B.O.P.
You'll stay long at the F. B. O. P.

You can shower with men,
You can measure and pretend,
You can grove and bend..

You'll have fun at the F.B.O.P.
You'll stay long at the F.B.O.P.

You'll have everything for old men to enjoy,
You can shower and dance with boys...

I said, Orange man...

Roll over a rock,
And what will you find;
Someone not
In a rational mind.

Where do we find them,
These  sad sacks;
Standing with placards
In the pumpkin patch.

Holding up fists,
Ready to fight;
A left jab will settle
The flails from the right.

They hang around schools,
Ogling their chances;
Using bibles as tools
For sexing defences.

They call themselves patriots,
Heroes and martyrs;
They're blowing hot air;
They're political farters.