(This poem can be sung to the tune of "Little Brown Jug.")

"Me and Kim Jong Un are friends;
Me and him, we made amends.
He rules with an iron fist--
Something that I can't resist.

(Chorus)
"Ha, ha, ha! Can’t you see?
We are making history.
Ha, ha, ha! Look at me!
I just crossed the DMZ!

"North Koreans live in fear.
Many often disappear.
Kim knows how to make 'em cower.
That is how he keeps his power.

(Chorus)

"Let's watch him as he revamps
His political prison camps.
Torture's carried out inside;
He says torture's justified.

(Chorus)

"Ultimate power goes to Kim.
He decides your fate at whim.
Sure, a few unlucky ones
Were killed by anti-aircraft guns.

(Chorus)

"When discussions reconvene,
Watch his propaganda machine.
Speaking up is not worthwhile.
Good chance you won't get a trial.

(Chorus)

"People here are thin, which means
They must eat a lot of greens.
Kim Jong Un is--I must state--
The only one who's overweight.

(Chorus)

"So he might have used starvation
To teach a lesson to his nation.
As long as they all give him praise,
They will live to see more days.

(Chorus)

"This is what he's demonstrated:
Human rights are overrated.
Still, I love to fantasize
That I'll get the Nobel Prize.

"Ha, ha, ha! Can’t you see?
We are making history.
Ha, ha, ha! Look at me!
I just crossed the DMZ!"

-by Bob B (7-1-19)

Man, slow yourself down,
Why you walking so bold?
Stridin' like combat,
Rushin' to get old.

We'll get there together,
Just lift them quick eyes
Don't miss the already.
Breathe in the realised.

That's how you move:
Slide your kung fu,
Put down your fists
And take a close view.

Come and speak softly,
Hear the real you
And before you know it
You'll see the new true.

Sometimes
People see a part of your soul.
And they think they know everything.
But you don’t know that I dream of moving to a different country.
You don’t know that my stubbornness matches your own-
but I only use it when it seems worth the fight.
I hate to hurt people. But I will also do what I have to.

And I thought it was funny when we got handcuffed.
I wasn’t afraid of you- just the explosion.
I try to be logical, but I’m a hopeless romantic
I won’t apologize for who I am, in spite of my apologetic nature.
And I do understand love- and I do love you.
In spite of everything. You are more than you know.
But I’ve also moved to a more objective plane of view.
And I’m glad that you saved yourself,
     even if there were some casualties along the way.

"One thing good I can say about the hotel,
There were plenty of skanky crack ******
Strolling the boulevard.”
So began my Expedia travel review.
As usual, I got less than I’d paid for.
My review title:
“Next Time, Sans the Engineering
& Construction Inquietude.”
Pulling into the parking lot
One immediately recognized the scene,
A modern version of Cecil B. DeMille.
The 10 Commandments.
Pyramids of Egypt
Reconstructed, Escher-like
As a 21st Century construction site.
Oh, yes,
Everything Habib had in mind
When he subcontracted
The entire task to Hershel--
Hersh from Kanersh--
The famed,
But cursed
Jewish architect.
I digress, yes, but only partly.

Noise-induced stress, anyone?
The electrified multi-frequency drone,
Saturates like a post-war Levittown
Sea of Cape Cods . . . cods?
Bacala: stiff, salted, yellow & oily.
Cacophony:  a Festivus for the rest of us.
Oh yeah, Mr. Costanza.
Post-war?
Hardly, the mahogany wax
Still faintly, freshly sober,
New cards shuffled.
New cards dealt.
At that mahogany conference table
We weep at stacked decks,
Aces & Kings for the privileged few
Deuces & treys for the hoi polloi.
That hinky Bretton Woods poker game,
Convened while the war went on,
WWII still raging, guns still firing,
Tanks still rolling & rolling along.
There sat the Ruling Elite,
The 1%--as they are calling us these days--
We didn’t even offer
Our Gold Star mothers,
A moment to
Hold their breath.
Not one decent interval of silence.
Nein, nein, nein.
It was let’s get back to business.
Capital resuming its
Uncivil War on Labor.
First, add decades of slow boa squeeze.
Inflation, insidiously mocking Calvin--
Your ethos of work
In smithereens--
(Smithereens.
[From Irish Gaelic smidir n,
Diminutive of smiodar,
Small fragment.] ...)
A recipe for Sisyphus,
Your down-the-ladder warped reflection
Stares back at you as your
Up-the-ladder false hopes
Go escalator bye-bye; and by,
Staring at you,
Pinning you to a wall
With Econ 101 clarity,
As taught by Karl,
Another wily Jew:
It is a treadmill, after all,
Noting again the clever juxtaposition
Of a Jew and a handful of Christians,
Devotees of random Protestant sects.
The following link is a gift to some struggling writer @wattpad.
(Who Cares ON HOLD INDEFINITELY Chapter Twenty - Page 1 ...
www.wattpad.com/4225578-who-cares-on-hold-indefinitely-chapte­r-twe...‎
Apr 22, 2012 - Leanna was totally stunned by this and immediately halted in her tracks and began to scream at such a high decibel, Opia could hear her ears...) That’s right, another commercial in the middle of a ******* poem. The proceeding link was a gift to some struggling writer @wattpad.@*******.
Expedia Review:
The Windemere.
Its last syllable from Old English 'mere',
Meaning 'lake' or 'pool'.
A magical name
Reeking, swirling through your mind,
Lavender & English lakes
With steam ferries.
Ne c'est pas?

I arrived at the front desk?
The computers are down,
Having earlier that day
Been hacked into.
No restaurant.
No bar.
Nowhere.
Scaffolding & drop cloths,
Everywhere.
Construction materiel,
Everywhere.
When you finally get your swipe card,
You Notice that the “Buy One, Get One”
Pizza promo, laminated on one side,
Expired about 5 months ago.
The drive to the room
Is wry recognition that
The Windemere Hotel
& Conference Center*
Is actually a ****** motel.
Backhoes & cranes,
Everywhere.
Multiple, out-door spaces
Sectioned off with police
Yellow crime-scene tape.
Everywhere.
Railings on balconies
Appear to be seconds away
From giving way.
Odor, anyone?
You can count on it,
The moment that electronically-challenged keybox
Gives up its flashing green dot ghost.

Most times you get less
Than you pay for.
$47.00 a night?
Please ask,
Next time,
What's the catch?
“WHAT DID YOU LIKE ABOUT YOUR STAY?”
Again, Numb-nuts,
You think it’s a poem.
But it’s actually my
Fakokta Expedia Review.
WHAT DID I LIKE?
This one I had to think about,
Coming up, quickly . . .
(An advertisement generated by algorithms for your amusement follows)
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Coming quickly with Dwight David Eisenhower,
The man we liked & called IKE.
When asked if his VP Nixon--
Running for President himself,
In a tight race with JFK—
Had distinguished himself in any way
In his 8 years as his Vice-President?”
IKE replied:
"Give me a minute and
I'm sure I can think of something."
Not a ringing endorsement.
IKE knew something
The rest of us had to wait for 1973,
Reserving a room at the The Watergate,
Close to Foggy Bottom & Georgetown:
THE WATERGATE HOTEL
& CONFERENCE CENTER,
Just like The Windemere,
Another ****** motel.
**** me! What was I thinking?

Not to mention lack of privacy,
Be it acoustic or visual and,
In one case a veritable DEA bust.
Crack ***** in residence next door,
Cranes her neck around the balcony wall,
A would-be nurse, perhaps,
Offering home hospice &
Concern for your raspy,
***-smoking cough.
Her pox face bursting in on
The long anticipated
Marijuana Miller Time.
On the veranda, early evening,
Lighting up your first joint of the day,
Desperately in need
Of some herbal peace of mind.
Ne c'est pas?
Her big crack-***** head
Giraffes like crazy around the wall,
Invading your balcony space.
*******? Who was that?
Let’s lock the doors.
Let's hunker down for the night,
Taking turns keeping watch,
Like a couple of shitless scared
Grunts of the DMZ.
(Urban Dictionary: scared shitless www.urbandictionary.com/define. Ph?term=scared%20shitlessIt's when you scare someone to such an extent, you scare the **** out of them, at times causing them to excrement all over the vicinity . . .)
The Expedia Review goes on:
Anything interesting about the surrounding area?
Oh, yes, as previously mentioned:
Plenty of crack ******
Strolling the boulevard.

Hey, Windemere Hotel,
*** am I doing in Mesa, Arizona,
Two days shy of the summer solstice,
And 119 degrees?
That's another story.
But for now,
Hey Windemere,
Here’s a tip:
Next time it's total facility makeover time,
Shut the **** hotel, please.

I have seen death's face
in many places
from Saigon to An Loc,
to the DMZ:
not by virtue, but luck,
he did not see me.

The others who fell
in those self-same places,
he surprised and snatched
away too slow to flee:
by the dumbest of luck,
he did not take me.

Now they are the forgotten dead
and I am old and weary
and worlds from Saigon
An loc or the DMZ:
my time and luck are running out
and slowly he turns his face toward me.

  ~mce

My battle,though not in Normandy is the landing beach inside of me,but
the war zone.
becomes a DMZ, as I and I cease hostility and come to an understanding.

You see,
I finally reached the beach when the tide had swallowed all those within reach and the Moon was on the wane, and understood that the battles like life were just a game,and as the good go on, the bad will wither away.

'The night of the long knives'

The cutting of life from the bough,we are leaves that will fall,hallmarked gold,assigned to be loved and to hold onto this,
we kiss like it's our first and our last,our future and the past slowly devours the remnants of...can anything last,would each day that has passed since we met fade away,who can say?

We are Olympia.


We are the races we run,the discus that's flung into the air,the javelin thrown and we become all we've been told and have known.The medals we wear, bright on our vest are a chest full of treasure,the pleasure we take,the records we make will belong to the future that goes on and on and we will rest on the laps of the gods.

Epiphany.

It was never to late to be replanted on the shady side,to be reinstated,able to grow well beside those who had grown well before and to sit out of the sun seems to give me more of a perspective on the times I have run through.In the gardens of grace where each face meets a face of the faces he wore,
if there ever was a war
I see that the shore is now silent.

Tight rope walking
is an art that my man
has perfected.
He sweats only inside
as he risks the fall
in bringing my morning coffee.
No net.
Still he smiles as though
this particular rope
is a lifeline.
A tether?

He could never be
The Boy With The Hair.
No;
My Man Is No Boy.
He dares greatly
clutching a quivering
cup of lifeblood.  
One foot placed carefully
In front of the other
50 feet above
the DMZ each morning
Into enemy territory.
Into me.

The bravest Man I’ve known
is a performer in a circus
where the perks are
landmines
languish
and breakfast with
The Bearded Lady.

There are no DMZ'S
it's a ******* free for all
a shitfire shooting gallery
we're like prizes in a bingo hall
our numbers will line up.

And a bit 'rinky-****'
when you sit back to think
that it never used to be
this way.

In light of tension twixt
brinkmanship rumbling one
East Asian Tiger
country otherwise known as
"the land of morning calm,"
yours truly t'will invite
"freedom foo fighters"
tubby regaling with a jubilant aire
total mortal Kombat
levels threat of human warhead
bomb dubbed "Fat Boy.”

I barely get ma palm pilot sized
dear derriere i.e.
gluteus maximus in the air
just a cat whisker
across the DeMilitarized Zone
(DMZ in military parlance),
when the Earth shuddered from blare
ring fusillade expressed detonation
issued by Kim Jong Un,
whose craven dark excitement clear;
no match for one man
bow welled bombardier

propelled ****** bowel
movement game changer
will hit designated target precisely clear
and North Koreans (no matter
mostly innocent victims),
howling and whelping doggone dear
for quasi legerdemain
identifying, fraternizing, colluding,
et cetera with the enemy (in general,
the NATO bound countries) 'ere
really quiet, as preparation (H) gets made
to bring out the big guns

(actually shaped like a fleshy
posterior man knuckled ***) in truth one
dead reckoning sphincter muscle
that doth flex with fantastic flair
impossible mission to espy, cuz sieve
all the flak whistling
induce sing a glare,
but...the Hermit Kingdom got another
bad a$$ bombardier to fear
deathly, stealthily quiet,
hence released **** Jed

motive predicated to lob
early Holiday nuclear missiles,
me cheeks with
blasting buttocks akin to
young Frankenstein blazing saddles
as sole portal oozing gaseous
noxious flatulence - majority
of North Koreans will not hear
amidst din and clangor "bad medicine"
smiting nemesis courtesy blaze of glory
eye ordnance impossible to hear,

I strongly advise tubby not near
as you might already correctly guess,
when while mooning Pyongyang
well taut smart cheeks,
blindsided immune to any prayer
so...upon confiding this tidbit,
yet will need to seek out specialty
of proctologist who doth rear
lee **** seed unfortunate victim,
yet this silent deadly *** sass sin hated
hard as a ribbed rock stainless steel

guaranteed to wreak havoc, with loathing
what information divulged
ye moost promise never to share
else...any (red) turn coats
can not muster posterior haste,
and other emotions hints sin sere
which top secret (never bottomed out
during test practice trials,
whereat Johnny spot on)
proved to vaporize underwear
and caused a "big stink"

that lasted about one year,
whose po' country mutilated,
reduced, wasted to ashes after
every nuclear and
traditional military contrivance,
an IC and BM (mine) did destroy.

There will be
A second shot
Heard around the world
Brother will again
Face brother
Chest to chest
Blood will be shed
There will be
Civil unrest
Those we thought
Were brothers in arms
Will show their true
Colors
Lines will be drawn
Of theirs and ours
To define new
Borders
A constant fight
Will be border
Control
Just like DMZ
Or Israel
I will find a side
So shall you
We will meet opposed
Or under
United Districts
I do this for my children's
Future
I make oaths and sign
In blood
May God guide my hand
Against those I oppose
As I raise the ***** Jaw Bone


--Ike E. Davis

Art, the DMZ
  between wishes and dreams

Escape for the traveler
  —forgotten and lost

(Villanova Pennsylvania: Watching The Eagles 3-Hour Documentary: June, 2016)

Locked
cocked
and itching to rock 
Ready for an attack
of modern made wack-ness 
I already waged war once 
when I ripped my heart 
out of the blackness


Destruction!
I'm a killer son!
Y'all didn't know
Laser-focused aim
with words waiting to go!


Bullets don't fly slow
and they'll land true
like planes on a glide *****
While you stutter and stagger
I'll be in the breeze
because your words don't matter
begging on your knees


You can censor me
but I know my enemy
and I see you as a frenemy
it's plain to see
and easy like 1, 2, 3


I don't need to leap tall buildings
I got tnt!
I'll burn it down like a village
in a DMZ!
Take a break
for some cake
Yeah! 
Y'all know me!


Both barrels loaded!