A failure to pursue
The very basic things in life
Shall lead to entanglements
Promulgating strife.
Shall lead insinuation,
In a flexing of the call...
That entitlements are really
Not entitlements, at all.

Assuming that the black man
Has blood as red as thine,
But thee are as lilly white
As a floret on a vine?
Assuming our assumptions here
Are sootier than sin
Then the rationale offered,
Is ridiculously thin.

Then you who have loved
Wear black hate in your heart
For they who aspire
To intrude from the dark,
All they, who conspire
To trespass your day
To sift carnally, perhaps,
Your lover away.

Who would argue, then,
The precipitous tone
That configures your honesty
When caught out alone.
Infidelity lost
In the mire of a lie....
Which, expediently, slipped
From your sweet lips, to fly?

Where now the mercy,
Where now the grace,
Of the insidious smirk
That smears your face...
Having eaten the turkey,
Savoured the wine
With those War torn Ghazan's
Starving, brutally, in grime?

The curse is all around us
The Woke, Effete and Prim,
The Holy and the Righteous
All wear that specious thing,
An Entitlement to Elevate,
A Right to Wear the Crown
A place just to the left of God
Which keeps the riffraff down.

Irrespective of the nation,
All languages and hue
Through strata of society
This malady is YOU!
This spectre of entitlement
In the self imposed Elite
Is now the key to immolation
In humanity's defeat.

M@Foxglove.Taranaki.NZ
30 December 2023

Crazy Guy Sends His Poems to a Dead Guy

~for Joel Frye,and yes it’s true~


ah another trivial pursuit of trivial nuggets
bout yours untruly, that is a truly truly,
poets that
I’ve known here, but who have moved on,
it’s my obligation to keep them posted on the
au courant,

so slip them a poem or two,
when you ain’t looking to

make one wonder even more,
what makes a man a nutty Natty.?

well if you don’t know the answer to that after
two t h o u s a n d plus poems, you are not getting me

but Joel Frye,
mutual enjoyed our scribblings,
yeah, he got me,
so via social media,
keep him posted of my latest écrits,
fancy french for scribbles,

of course he gets them
before me,
in so far I assume
my thots are known to rise
or more likely drop,
even before
they traverse that narrow passage between my ears…
but really, just in case,
in the peace and quiet
of the hubbub above, with all them comings and goings,
he, God forbid, (ha!), he may overlook my inane insanities,
and the weirdness
of my compositions,
real, ethereal and in between~al,

that’s a great whew~relief knowing,
at least
some one!
is reading my stuff…

natty