You readers, who visit these pages
are a fan-base that rarely engages.
So until you hit like,
you can all take a hike;
for I'm paid in poetical wages.

My liberal friends, who love to preach
who deign to enlighten and to reach
the lower orders with their light
to guard what’s left and set things right
must deal with recent facts unkind
which threaten the Progressive mind.

Your narrative took a massive hit
so **** it in—acknowledge it.
Your media, misinformed and lame,
now limping, has to bear the blame
for polling as they hoped to hear
leading (and speaking) from the rear.

Indeed; you claim we won by Hate?
in this you tend to under-rate
your sanctimonious fusillades.
Your nemesis, against great odds
was voted for by US, and won.
(So sorry that God’s will was done.)
Our diverse voters clinched the fight.
You thought we had none on the Right?
Hispanics? Thirty-odd percent.
And black votes came in (heaven-sent),
more numerous than they were for Mitt
so shut your pie-hole. Deal with it.
Without them Trump could not have won;
we’d be deprived of all this fun!
The people did not buy the goods
you foisted on our neighborhoods.
And patriots now meet brand-new friends:
political correctness ends
when Truth joins hands with common sense.
The truth will ALWAYS bring offense
to smug elitist hypocrites
and democratic counterfeits
projecting their neurotic fears
upon the Right. Oh the things one hears.
We’re fascist and unfit to live,
we eat our children; never give
a **** for the poor or a prayer for a soul.
The “War on Women” our evil goal.
We hear ourselves described as bigots.
Bilious brew–and we must swig its
bitterness in constant sips
as insult pours from your spiteful lips.

We’re rigid, white, misogynistic
(my, how you wax antagonistic.
Thought you were all about tolerance
and doing that Multi-Kulti dance…)
We’re gender-biased (and repressed)
unkind, unwise, uncouth, unblessed.
What-- since we don't like Globalism,
technoid One-World Kommunism
we dwell in some hateful **** state?
(You blather on…it’s getting late
to re-use all your left-wing smears
which barely reach our deafened ears.)

As young folks like to say: tough *****.
You’re stranded outside the holy city.
Our vast right-wing epiphany
out-sung your PC tyranny.

An achievement in your life, no matter how small is still nevertheless an achievement...be proud of it and respect it, irrespective of whatever people might say or think about it.

They say i look aged
My freshness is gone...i look jaded
I'm lost in oblivion..i've faded
No one gives a **** about me
And i don't have no friends
I'm a loner and a loser
But that's not the way i see it
I think i'm the person i'm today 'coz of loneliness and failures
I can't explain to you in words the amazing things i've gained because of these two beauties
And anyways what they say don't bother me no more
'Coz  i just think they're jealous that i made it this far
I know who i am
I know what i am
Look i'm not denying that there's isn't any scope for improvement...
...That is an endless scope
But the important thing is that no matter what they say about you
You should be clear about yourself
You ought to love yourself
Sure at times you have to be critical of yourself as well
But sometimes go a little easy as well
Live a life the way you want to live it
Express yourself the way you want to
Don't restrict or contain your existence to other's opinion's of you
It's damaging like hell
Believe me i've been through that and still go through it
But i'm trying...extremely hard to create my own identity and be the best i can be...
....after all isn't that what life is all about...finding yourself, creating yourself, creating memories, making your dreams and reality meet, spreading love, joy and positivity to all around you and above all when your time's up...you know that you've used it well

Your love is like the sun
It scorches me in the summers
But it's an absolute lifesaver during the winters
It's demanding, challenging, at times kinda' rude and yet it's also kind, compassionate, enriching and full of warmth

The first thinkers were poets
Naming Mother Earth
Beginning symbolic thinking
Of nature, death and birth

Though themes are often repeated
Love, Beauty and God
Poetry in the guise of Religion
A prophet or a fraud

The poet resurrects the Primitive
Through allegory and similes
Disarming the unknown like explorers
Sublime Prophets and Visionaries

They must lay bare those treasured images
That must be expressed
Unraveling and revealing the sounds
At each soul’s behest

Encompassing the entire Cosmos
So lyrical the beat
The poet’s excitement flows outward
Laid at the Reader’s feet

So original, individual
She won’t examine or explain
Letting go the festering feelings
Disturbances in her brain

He exposes his dark, wounded psyche
Just to release and express
Such capacity to see and compare
Hyperbole at its best

I love, I hate, I suffer
A special dance in rhythm and rhyme
The poet as a buffer
Lessening the pain and sting of time

Laden with symbol and feelings
She gives you sweet relief
From something urgent, revealing
Confusion to belief

Through a cinematic kind of seeing
The poet purges to transform
By leaping through Alice’s looking glass
She never was one to conform

Quite intolerant of convention
Just like The Mad Hatter
His passions immune to all logic
In syncopated patter

Jamming up the poet’s mind
Struggling for expression
Seeking order out of chaos
An infantile regression

Cleaving to his imaginary world
The poet breaks out into words
Creating sound paintings to be unfurled
So his own agony is blurred

She succumbs to storms of passion
With instinctive techniques
Rhymes and rhythm still in fashion
Out of hand flows mystique

The poet mines from his unconscious
The Reader is not blind
For every single line and symbol
Means something to the mind

Causing an inner liberation
Enlightenment or flight
It is a matter of life and death
When darkness turns to light.