I’m sure I’m quite right,
I cannot be wrong,
I was always so bright.
My memory’s strong.

I well racked my brain,
Considered all facts
And with consummate strain
Followed the tracks.

The Kurds were not there
Nowhere in sight,
This I declare
Knowing I’m right.

That day on the beaches,
With fighting so strong,
As history teaches,
No Kurds came along.

Now they seek succor,
Too late by a mile,
When so far in the gutter
They needn’t me dial.

They claim we should help them,
Protect them from foes,
It’s me they condemn
For their long list of woes.

Get with the program,
Move it along
Hurry and scram
From the conquering throng.

Don’t try and convince me
I’ve made the wrong choice,
I’m sure you’ll agree
You haven’t a voice.

In my infinite wisdom
I tell you this thing,
In this here my kingdom
Will the pendulum swing;

One minute the Kurds
So cute in their garb,
The other the Turks
With their venomous barb.

The former I’m told
Are people to trust,
But I just like the bold
That don’t self-combust.

Give me a winner,
A strong man each time,
I’d rather a sinner
Who’ll follow my line.

Call me ‘cold-hearted’
But what do I care,
The process now started
Depicts my great flair.

Like a conductor
I set forth the tone,
The finest instructor
The world’s ever known.

Let’s finish this bleating
And follow my lead,
So the Kurds get a beating,
A serious nosebleed;

They’re nothing to me,
Just a festering sore,
I hereby decree
This subject’s a bore.

God what a mess,
My head is spinning,
Each day more stress,
Am I still winning?

Wall street crashing,
The economy near stall,
The media’s constant bashing,
Pelosi’s new curve ball.

My plans are now in tatters,
Forestalled at every turn,
To do what really matters
Is all I truly yearn.

I’m gearing for a fight
The like they’ve never seen,
I use my mouth to bite
And care little if I’m mean.

I’ll tear each one to shreds,
Flail them side to side,
Get well into their heads,
Give them quite a ride.

Clearly they don’t know
The grief they have in store,
They’ll reap what they now sow,
It’s nothing short of war.

Like Bombers flying high
Releasing their payload,
Shells falling from the sky,
I’ll give them what they’re owed.

Cross me once
And risk my wrath,
Yours the choice
To take that path.

Cross me twice
And stay awake,
You’ve cast your dice,
What a mistake.

“Bring up the sails!”
The captain yells
The waves bash the vessel’s sides
The winds blow through the dark skies
Rain pours like the grace of God
Flowing straight from the face of God
Crashes of thunder echo far
Sailors pray to gods afar

One such sailor walks to the rail
Into to the deep he stares
Into the vast black of the ocean
His gaze is unbroken
What wonders lie beneath the visible?
What terrors does the dark hide?
Is the depths of the water feasible?
The tears of the man are dried
As he leaps into the deep

Deep down the water he sinks
Deeper than any man can think
The water moves and flows
Deeper the man goes
He is too deep to see the surface
He is too deep to know his purpose
His mind opens up
Before his last breath goes out

The ship rises and falls
The waves do not stall
The men fight in vain effort
To avoid the doom apparent
A wave crashes over the ship
As the water drains, an eclipse
The clouds have broke, the stars
Peace falls over the ocean,
But not all is well

Is it a man? No.
Is it a beast? No.
A being of unrecognizable properties
A being that rises above the water
Like it was his own bath tub
Is it a god? Perhaps.
Can it be known? Never.
It reaches to the small ship,
With fingers a mile long
It pulls it up with a quick whip,
Sailors fly off like pebbles
The ship is held suspended
The being’s face is that of the moon
The captain looks on the face of truth
His mind is finally perfected

They say sixty is just a state of mind
Those who claim that must be blind,
Furrowed brows and bulging nose
Eyesight failing, even close.

Conversations turned to health
Soaring bills, dwindling wealth,
Simple tasks ever harder
Working out now a non-starter.

Yet the mind as sharp as ever
All those years makes one so clever,
Entrenched Opinions by the score
Others’ views an awful bore.

On the bright side life is freer
Gone the children, free to swear,
Drink more beer, lush on wine
Sleep it off in your own time.

Just enjoy this phase of life
yes more painful, but less strife,
Silver hair is now great fashion
Making up for that lost passion.

Read more books, drink that wine
Savor life, don’t youth pine,
What has been is but a blur,
What’s to come will your heart stir.

you are every allegory
in my catastrophe

awake now!
Recite!
Write it down, letter by letter
the house of Holy is being built
brick by brick, letter by letter, gem by gem

my Spirit approached me by night
with a vision of gladness
a triumphant tiding
born on a warm and powerful wind in the dead of winter

Say, “It is finished”
Say, “The city has fallen!”
Say, “Come away with me, my love. Come away, and taste not of her poison delicacies”

as in a dream, I watched
while a mad-woman
a maenad
ran through every street and back alley
a lunatic
possessed by the moonlight
holding in her left hand
a magic wand that she had retrieved
from a children’s magic kit
a plastic wand

and everywhere she ran
she swung her wand
pointing at each and every thing
and shouting

HOLY! HOLY! HOLY! HOLY!
Holy, the cobblestones of the street! Shining in the moonlight!
Swinging her wand and pointing up
HOLY the dark clouds which move to block the moonlight
and move away again to reveal!

Swinging and shrieking and crying
HOLY! HOLY!
Pointing the wand at the gawking passerby
who stopped to stare, clutching their children tightly to guard them from her madness
HOLY the skeptics, the blind, and the deaf! For they shall see! They shall hear!
Holy your children, whom you shall not keep from me!
They will follow me through the streets, singing and dancing to my merry tunes!

Holy the children, for they believe in magic wands of plastic
Holy the plastic, no less than the gold with which you adorn your temples!

Holy the darkness, which falls over your land!
And with those words
the Lady flung her arm
pointing her wand at the moon itself
which turned red-black
like congealed blood over a wound
and darkness fell over the cobblestones in the streets

and panic fell in the hearts of the passerby
because the light was gone
and screaming terrified, they tried to drag their children with them back inside their homes
where the cold hum of electricity kept the incandescent status quo glowing from the ceilings

but the children would have none of it
the Lady had begun to dance under the darkened moon
through the black streets
singing a merry tune (holy holy holy)
and the children each broke free from the terrified death-grips of their parents
and danced behind Her
into the streets

The fact of the matter is I'm lost. The dense infinite sea has all the power over me. I go where the wind takes me. There is life all around me, yet I'm all alone. I had people back home, but all of them stayed as I set sail into the mist. I'm cold. The only comfort I have is, that I will inevetably come across some sort of land, somewhere I can take refuge, somewhere I feel safe and warm. Warmth. It's all I need right now.
I write to let my mind express itself and to keep my sanity. Of which I have not a lot left. Had I any to begin with? Why must I suffer. Why must anyone? I don't know if suffering together with someone would ease the pain, or would it simply multiply it. Only time will tell. I hope, I think.
Not knowing is manditory.
That is all I have left.
Soon i might know.
If only because of some miracle, the promiseland finds me.
The bottle, the one I set out into the emptiness, hoping it will find the one I sent it to, and return her to me.
I might never know. Know that feeling.
I might never feel again. Im starting to lose it.
I never learned how to sail.
Thought it comes naturally. I could, but it is keeping me from it. This. This one, that is both a blessing and a curse. The one, who promised me the confession will reach it's goal. How will it know the goal, when even I don't? Empty promises. Just like they promised to help me.
What did I expect