Trump-ED©

There once was a man named Trump
Whose hair looked like a clump

A little bit plump
Never caught looking like a frump

He lived in a home that was no dump
It didn’t even need a sump pump

For some he was a pain in the ****
Yet you would never call him a schlump

Some thought he was a grump
Others said he was no chump

He did like to make people jump
Causing people’s throat to have a lump

Rules didn’t apply to him, no need for an ump
Even when his business was in a slump

Like most he did have the odd bump
For everyone runs into a slump

While there were those that did want him to flump
So along the way he could see a thump

Still others did relay you were a mump
I say so long old friend, Mr. T. Trump

Trump (Ted) 1925-2005

Andreas Simic©

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses,
places, events and incidents are either the products of
the author's imagination or used in a fictitious manner.
Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or
actual events is purely coincidental.

Are the Five Alive©

Can you see it through...
The fog
The smog
The mist

Can you smell it through...
The fear
The odors
The stench

Can you hear it through...
The noise
The racket
The chatter

Can you taste it through...
The spices
The flavors
The bland

Can you touch it through...
The pain
The sorrow
The concessions

If you’ve made it this far through
The gauntlet known as life

Take a bow  for you are alive with the big five
Sight, smell, hearing, taste and feel are for real

Andreas Simic©

From the Back of the Bus©

The journey to school via that yellow tin can
They call it a bus at least where I come from, man

Long and narrow it transports it’s precious cargo
And delivers daily where we must show to grow

My favorite destination of that vehicle not of choice
Was the back of the bus so I could hide inside and rejoice

Many lessons were learned on the way to school
Observing life from that back of that melting *** pool

One learned about friendship between two friends
The shy kid whose ride was a means to an end

The bully that would run amok
Those were the ones that would have me duck

There were smiles and frowns alike
Most days I would rather ride my bike

Some days were up but most days were down
In the midst of the crowd and the class clown

Intersperse that beautiful girl
And the kids that made you want to hurl

Some were kind and some were tough
Seeing some of both was enough

Not realizing at that young age
This was preparing us for a different life stage

The ride was a daily grind
While I was looking for something else to find

From the back of the bus

Andreas Simic©

From the Back of the Bus©

The journey to school via that yellow tin can
They call it a bus at least where I come from, man

Long and narrow it transports it’s precious cargo
And delivers daily where we must show to grow

My favorite destination of that vehicle not of choice
Was the back of the bus so I could hide inside and rejoice

Many lessons were learned on the way to school
Observing life from that back of that melting *** pool

One learned about friendship between two friends
The shy kid whose ride was a means to an end

The bully that would run amok
Those were the ones that would have me duck

There were smiles and frowns alike
Most days I would rather ride my bike

Some days were up but most days were down
In the midst of the crowd and the class clown

Intersperse that beautiful girl
And the kids that made you want to hurl

Some were kind and some were tough
Seeing some of both was enough

Not realizing at that young age
This was preparing us for a different life stage

The ride was a daily grind
While I was looking for something else to find

From the back of the bus

Andreas Simic©

The Craving©
Until now I have never really FELT the meaning of craving
Yet here I am doing exactly that

I crave to write
For some unknown
Unexplained reason

The words
And ideas
Are pouring out of me

Like a faucet
That cannot
Be turned off

Why now
Why here
Why at all

It doesn’t make sense
Is it mere pretense
Or heaven sent

Do the words
Have meaning or
Is it me just screaming

My goal is inspiration
For others or
So I think

What if what I write
Readers see as
Something that stinks

So back to
Where it
All began

Why am I craving
This particular
Fall or at all

Andreas Simic©

Growing up country...A day in the life ©
I lay on my bed awake staring at the ceiling
No need for an alarm cause I have two
One is brooster the rooster and the is
A holler I call “father”

And then there it is the shout from below
“Get up you slugs we have things to do and places to go”
I leap out of bed toss on some clothes no need to be picky
For we ain’t likely to see nobody this way today

The race down the stairs is on, only three brothers to beat
Getting to the kitchen table to get a seat and grub to eat
The smell of bacon permeates the air
And mom is at the bottom stair to give a hug right there

As we chow down we all look around at each other
Knowing full well the list and which one we druthers
There’s tillin the garden with a ***, muckin the pens with its stench,
Fence mendin with barb wire or ridein that metal steed named Deere

And on this day through luck of the draw or Dad’s decision
I create furrow after furrow with precision and after awhile
And many circles complete the mind tends to wander into a haze
As you slide from side to side on that hard seat amidst a glaze

What will this fall harvest bring after the chores are complete
A trip to the fair and rodeo to compete and there I will be the winner
In that girl’s blue eyes as I lift up that grand prize
She’ll notice me then, that pretty little thing and proudly wear my ring

The old John Deere will transform from a metal steed to a pickup I will need
For those kids who will be taught to heed, respect their elders and lay seed
We’ll live on a farm just like this one built on strong backs from generation
To generation hoping to build a better nation

Andreas Simic©

The Balancing Act©

It is as though I am constantly in a balancing act
I envy those that seemingly do not go through
This process of weighing things in my mind

Those like poker players that can go “all in”
Shove their chips into the middle of the table
As if there wasn’t even a fore thought involved

No, my mind has to go through “the process”
Is this a good decision or bad
What will be the consequences

Why am I doing this
What are the odds of something bad happening
How will the results affect my life

I look at the homeless who wander my streets
Judgment floods my mind
But is there jealousy at the heart of it

Is theirs a conscious choice
To have no bosses, no one to account to
Are they free from the balancing act

What of the daredevils that navigate Niagara falls
Who leap to peril do they juggle their decision
Or is there absolute clarity of the mind

Pros and cons
Ins and outs
Good or bad

Happy or sad
Mad or glad
The balancing act

Andreas Simic©