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.

I feel almost weightless,
As I notice all my problems
Fading into the nonsense
To which they belong.
Serenity reigns,
Everything is calm now.
A deep sentiment of rationality
Pervades my mind:
Everything is in the right place,
Everything is in the right time,
Everything is in the right order.
Everything makes sense.
Everything is just fine.
Everything seems so quiet,
So calm and still,
That I feel like
Nothing could ever affect me.
I am ethereal-minded,
I am like sunset on a lake,
I am like the breeze on my face,
I am like a deep underwater cave,
I am almost weightless.
And that's the best I've ever had.

"Listen!
I'm neither - not either!

"Not left, not right
Not black, not white

"Not red, not blue
Not the many, nor the few

"No, neither you
nor any other political tribe
will bribe my alliegence.
No one can expect
my adherence or compliant silence!

"I've no tribe but kin
and my kin can come in any skin
and will come and go again
this close to the rim.

"So, no -
I'll not promise to sing
from only one sheet of hymns.
I'll not sign up to this week's
with-the-tide swim.

"You can't assign me
based on a tick-box whim.
I'm no man's synonym.
I'm no easy pseudonym.

"My vote has never been
and never will be
ANYBODY'S easy win."

She stood at the door poised with her pen.
'Okaay... Is that an 'Undecided' then?'

When your worst horrors have come to pass
     and you did not die
and sleep  is actually a comfort,  
instead of a curse
Because dream-themes are no longer hauntings
but  instead,  flow in and out of consciousness
as random acts of grace
And the death that should be coming

becomes, instead
a replenishment of living cells--
a surprisingly-unexpected regeneration,  
this bracing for a Fall that never comes.

Winter is coming,

and this death, has a warmth
that will carry me through
And though the ground will be frozen soon,
there will be no death this year
above the frost line

But below,  in what is still warm
there will be a death,  that brings life--
encased in fear, yet floating within the midst
of a subterranean stream..  an ocean, of peace

Winter's chill is coming;  
there is a strange feeling in me
that tells me, I am ready.

Snowflakes gently touch your face but you are not cold

The air is refreshing
As you breathe you focus on your each breath

There is total peace around you
There is a scent of pine in the air
It reminds you of the coming season

You close your eyes to listen to the quiet
When you open your eyes, you see a doe looking at you.
Still, quiet and peaceful.