"kampf" poems
A ***** duct tape silences my mouth
People say blood is thicker than water
Yet your thunderous voice screams at me
Does daddy cherish his daughter?
So why can’t your eyes open and see
You’ve become a Mein Kampf tyrant?
You want my obedience and silence!
A ***** duct tape silences my mouth
As it leaves a residue of disgust
Must this be our memory?
Though silent my heart feels unjust-
Must you **** all my energy;
Leave me to feel lost and astray
As mental state starts to decay
A ***** duct tape silences my mouth
Will your anger subside and be quiet?
Fear suffocates vulnerable heart;
Wrathful words ready for a riot;
Confidence crushed as it’s torn apart.
Verbal abuse moves like a torrent flood,
Affecting those who share the same blood!
(c) 2018 Joanne Chang
Sep 28, 2018
Sep 28, 2018 at 9:35 AM UTC
tinted postcards
from Vienna-
Munich oils on canvas-
a self portrait
on a stacked-stone bridge-
rejected, the painter painted
yellow stars-broken glass
Judenstern and Kristallnacht
no starry night,
no van Gogh-
der Führer was no master,
Mein Kampf no masterpiece.
r ~ 8/25/14
Aug 25, 2014
Aug 25, 2014 at 9:53 AM UTC
I read an account of a small girl today
"Crunching beneath her feet
Like a thousand stars twinkling in the faint light of Potsdamer Platz
Father holding her hand so tightly it hurt
Sick children chased over broken glass
The Jewish children's hospital ransacked
While staff beaten for tending to the unworthy sick"
You can feel the fear in her words
The darkest November
Hatered had now found a new form, a face, a sign
The ********
Men paraded and followed ******
Revered like a demi god
They worshiped an ideal.
MIEN KAMPF
It seems now implausible that one mans belief and struggle that he apportioned to a race could be bastardised into a purge of races that divided mankind and almost ended it
From that night to this there have been many acts that again raise that spectre.
Sarejavo Iraq to mention but a few.
Tonight Jews Gentiles and others will shine peaceful lights at Potsdamer Platz.
What have we learnt in 75 yrs
The world watched the **** machine grow
The world did not act
What do we now watch
Who are we now failing...
Nov 8, 2013
Nov 8, 2013 at 7:34 AM UTC
HOW I MOURNED MADIBA IN EXCESS
Alexander K Opicho
(Eldoret, Kenya; [email protected])
Rationality is antediluvian
Emotionalism is post napoleon
Shrewdness comes with the queen
Slyness a game of head boys
Strength ist meine Kampf
Bad dirgical mourning is mine
The dark son of Africa
My billow is love for humanity
Giving a **** the tick where it is due
Mourning heroes of the world
That battled for songs of freedom
In which cradled I the son of zinjathropus
To day Nelson Mandela is born
He is sired a new and again anew
Not the son of a chief but humbly
In humility as son of humanity
Dec 6, 2013
Dec 6, 2013 at 10:20 AM UTC
And when mein kampf
Is placed in shelves
Art twists to fit in boxes
Of a must ache (or a mustache)
And a must have
And a must not be
Blue-eyed soldiers of fortune
Encompassing poles across every direction
Aryan infernos piercing the nightline
Razing pillars of the stars
As Abraham weeps over his children
Seeing through their eyes
The thorns he long thought
Died along with the past
Apr 7, 2016
Apr 7, 2016 at 6:34 AM UTC
Mein Kampf
‘Der Führer’
Heaves mothers’ children into the fires of hell, like sacks of flour
Throughout travels between devastating concentration camp
Day after day,
Hour upon hour,
Minute by minute.
All of this, to rid the population of ‘imperfect beings’….One of which
He is included.
Breaking backs, bones, and spirits
With each familial separation, stinging like a whip.
Incinerating carcass after carcass, to harvest golden teeth
And demolish the bodies of God’s children.
I don’t understand….
What is this for?
For not meeting the disgusting standards
Of a **** wolf.
I will never understand.
Das ist mein kampf.
(3-16-12)
Jun 4, 2012
Jun 4, 2012 at 1:30 PM UTC
grab the scissors and cut the teather clean
i found a laugh that works for me, but it's leaving
i've been warned of similar desires
through the vessel of their words, i fell to slick design
this endeavor
to forever
takes its toll
on a passion
erase you, i will
i'll take you on through the sunrise
erase you, i will
we'll take this outside
my favorite letter, i'll cross you to a "t"
as most demonic faces sit in leering
in this way, indifference has obliged
here, the challenge wakes in lies, as false prophets defy
this endeavor
to forever
takes its toll
on a passion
erase you, i will
i'll take you on through the sunrise
erase you, i will
we'll take this outside
distance fuels the long to use
to mistake, and to abuse
find them, find ten
lose them, lose none
May 6, 2013
May 6, 2013 at 9:35 PM UTC
die Schönheit der vorbeiziehenden Wolken
ein unbeschreiblich schöner Anblick
die Stärke des aufbrausenden Windes
ein unbeschreiblich harter Kampf
Voller Leichtigkeit, ganz ohne Schwere
beginnen all die kahlen Bäume zu tanzen
der endlose Tanz füllt die stille Leere
neue Kompositionen, neue Romanzen
Äste und Blätter folgen dem Rhythmus, ohne Zwänge
Büsche und Bäume biegen sich, neue Formen entstehen
Um uns herum einzigartige und beruhigende Klänge
Jedes Mal ein erfüllendes Gefühl, dieses Spektakel zu sehen
Der Komponist Natur
brilliert und überzeugt mit Bravour
so echt, so nah, so pur
Am Ende des Tanzes
hinterlässt der Wind und die Natur
seine oftmals ganz eigene, einzigartige Gravur
Dec 11, 2023
Dec 11, 2023 at 7:53 AM UTC
Alles, was man machen kann,
wäre seine Stunden zu lernen,
und jede Verstoß zu vergeben.
Nun, wenn das nur so leicht zu tun wäre!
Ich vermute, doch, ohne Kampf,
kein Nutzen würde bekommen.
Die Behinderung ist der Pfad.
-
All that one can do
would be to learn his Lessons
and to forgive each Transgression.
Now, if only that were so easy to do!
I conjecture, though, without Struggle,
no gain would be had.
The Obstacle is the Path.
Mar 1, 2014
Mar 1, 2014 at 4:40 PM UTC
I woke up this morning with a smile on my face,
I didn't know what it meant so I just hid it away.
That's my problem,
you see,
whenever the sun shines,
I hide in fear,
that's my sin.
I
don't really know what I'm fight'n for,
but I do know it's important so I implore
myself to get up,
wipe away the tears,
forget the grinding gears
in my soul.
I know it's hard to comprehend
the things I've been through
but ya gotta understand,
I'm just 17 and I've seen the worst of life,
been kicked down every time I tried to fight.
I can't win,
I can't lose,
'cause I got nothin' left,
just me,
myself,
and I will never forget,
how I fought those battles,
broke down those walls,
stood up and braced the impact
of every fall.
I'm strong but I'm weak in way you can't understand,
I work hard so I don't have to see it again,
that world I was brought in,
the pain I saw,
the and I will never forget.
This is my fight song.
Apr 23, 2017
Apr 23, 2017 at 3:39 PM UTC
Have you ever noticed how dark the world really is?
And I'm sorry if this isn't what you needed to hear.
So, if my sadness offends you, or hurts you, stop here
I feel alone constantly.
My insomnia consumes the one moment of the day when I am at peace,
I cannot ******* sleep
I have lost weight
My excuse:
I just..
don't eat the way I used too.
I'm white
somehow my school thinks that makes me ******* ******
As if I read Mein Kampf as a Bedtime story
In fact I hate ****** with every bone in my body...just like everyone else.
WHAT A ******* SHOCKER, RIGHT?!?!
Anyways,
I have to go to a church function today
more like being dragged
See,
everyone says, "you have to believe in something"
But after 8 years with an abusive father,
An apparently "Blind" mother (for not seeing it, of course)
I have nothing to believe in, except for the evil in man.
I believe,
and you can quote me on this,
All I know is that I'm on the planet,
I don't give a **** how I got here, how this place was created,
All I know, I'm here,
I'm living
I'll have a little fun
and eventually die.
(which for some people, that day can't come soon enough)
Which reminds me,
hey, even though you don't know me
would you mourn me?
Would Hello Poetry be the same, with one soul lost?
Would you?
would you?
I don't expect you too.
I'm still here,
still living
still pushing
still breathing (but just barely)
Thanks for listening to me
taking the time to read me
because this poem is me.
I'm sorry I'm depressing
should I be though?
Ain't I like every other human being,
Allowed to feel?
I make music, you know.
It helps me not feel lost.
Not feel broken.
and what's funny,
people hate that about me, too
If you feel so compelled,
(and no, this poem is not just for you to hear my music)
here's the link
https://soundcloud.com/user-123704847
See,
I scream in my music,
some love it
I love it
its how I feel
how I bleed
How I survive
Some hate it,
devil worshiper
yep,
that's me
that guy who worships Satan
Which of course, isn't true.
But,
as always,
life is full of assumptions.
Apr 14, 2017
Apr 14, 2017 at 4:47 PM UTC
Feeling empowered by president-elect
Trump, racist groups are emerging,
While in the past couple weeks
The number of hate crimes has been surging.
Over the past weekend a group
Celebrated the recent election
With Richard Spencer giving a speech
That shows the group's true complexion.
Spencer, current leader of
The National Policy Institute,
Ended his speech with "Hail, Trump!"
While listeners gave the **** salute.
The speech, referring to a "great struggle"
Of the white race--"people of the sun"--
Was full of white ethnocentric
Jargon, boldly and hatefully spun.
Sounding like ****** in MEIN KAMPF,
Spencer is one who advocates
Ethnic cleansing all across
Europe and the United States.
Groups once on the fringe now feel
That Trump and Steve Bannon provide
A platform for them to spread their hate
And bigotry nationwide.
Unless Trump speaks out and condemns
Hate groups using his name to spread
Their racist messages, then this country
Faces scary times ahead.
- by Bob B (11-22-16)
Nov 22, 2016
Nov 22, 2016 at 8:46 AM UTC
Many of the world's greatest Leaders throughout our tumultuous history have;
Many of the insightful Revolutionaries in stink hole and glory hole countries have;
Many of the oppressed, disenfranchised and cheated also have.
Look to Lenin, Mandela, Gandi, Nehru, Havel, Bhutto, Ceausescu, Charles I, Papadopoulos, Lady Jane Grey, Louis XVI, Marcos, Milosevic, a pile of Mohameds, Mussolini, Nicholas II, Pinochet, Saddam, Marie Antoinette, Pope Clement V, Selassie, Baghdadi, Duvalier, and, let's not forget the author of Mien Kampf, Adolph the Tenderizer.
And what do they all have in common?
Some, before they became boldly notorious, and others, after they became criminally notorious.
Some, looked out their window and saw platforms being erected.
Others witnessed gallows, guillotines. posts and walls.
They all got some time in:
PRISON. GAOL. JAIL. COOLER. LOCKUP. DUNGEON. KEEP. PEN. BASTILLE. CLINK. STATESVILLE. SLAMMER. STOCKADE. THE BIG HOUSE.
You get the idea.
His time will come.
Nov 21, 2020
Nov 21, 2020 at 9:50 AM UTC
Wut macht sich in mir breit,
bin gewappnet, mach mich für den Kampf bereit
hab alles getan um uns zu schützen,
hab gemerkt das alles würde nichts nützen
Versteht nicht mal was ich fühle,
was für Gedanken ich mir mach und wie sehr ich mich bemühe
Stattdessen sitz ich hier,
wünschte einfach Flo wär bei mir,
den ihr hättet kennenlernen sollen,
doch es gibt wichtigeres, ihr scheint das gar nicht richtig zu wollen
Hatte nach Mittwoch neue Hoffnung gefunden,
spielt keine Rolle, ihr seid frei und ungebunden
ich werde mich nicht weiter um Verständnis bemühen,
kein weiteres Gift versprühen,
werde mich einfach zurück ziehen und euch machen lassen,
versteh nicht wie ihr mich könnt hassen
hab doch alles für euch gegeben,
wollte noch so viel mit euch zusammen erleben
Weis nicht wie das weiter gehen soll,
spüre nur in mir steigt der Groll
vielleicht tut uns Abstand gut,
vielleicht geht dann auch die Wut
Kann nicht bleiben wie es ist,
denn bin dann nur noch mehr angepisst
tu alles damit es klappt,
aber egal was ich sag, ihr seid eingeschnappt
Hoffe wir werden mit der Zeit einen Weg finden,
die Zeit der Krise ohne weitere Schäden überwinden
Wollte morgen so viele Freuden mit euch teilen,
gemeinsam all unsere Wunden heilen
hab meine 100 Mauer endlich durchbrochen,
doch fühlt sich an als Brecht ihr mir jeden Knochen
hab meiner Familie von Flo erzählt,
wollte auch das ihr ihn auswählt
hatte mich tierisch auf morgen gefreut,
tief in mir gerade alles schreit und diese Entscheidung bereut
Ihr stellt eine Frage,
die ist für euch schon eine Aussage
hattet alles für euch schön geplant,
doch in mir drin bereits etwas mich warnt.....
Jan 26, 2018
Jan 26, 2018 at 6:17 PM UTC
If putsch comes to shove,
aye ain't no doggone fraidy cat
nor chicken little
fearing coup d'état,
yours truly simply
risk averse, and more exact,
he stays sequestered
within these four walls,
cuz tis safest inside this flat
always... mein kampf,
I remember when fertilization begat
after nine months in utero...
ah dat womb dar full habitat
i.e. ****** cradled humanity, whereat
teeming bajillions primates
peopling planet Earth
couples made lovey dovey after spat
(which species among
other flotsam and jetsam),
got shot out (think) analogous
muzzle loaded gat
excellent marksman aimed
then squirted packed heat hot
as summer temperature
gets within Gujarat
recorded courtesy, thee
oldest functioning thermostat,
albeit microcosmic primordial vat
testy sea men don
(May comb hairy
gah great again) conical hat.
I surmise proto humans
especially storied hall
(conjured in Peer Gynt
by Edvard Grieg
of mountain king)
trumpeted, tooted thwacked,
and announced presence
courtesy posterior primal mating call,
which vibrant cheekiness heard all
around the mulberry bush to Gaul
hmm... maybe e'en hot air
inspired Marc Chagall,
while sitting atop porcelain throne,
nonetheless scandalous
****** blasts methinks help explain fall
of Rome, whereby noxious
generated silent but deadly nauseating
noisome pall mall
felled friend and foe alike
analogous on minuscule
scale to Chernobyl
level 7 nuclear accident
also linkedin, when
Polar Vortex doth stall
across avast swath planet Earth
forcing quick thinkers to marshall,
what (mathers) matters
such as... antique pinball
machines worth a mint,
a ***** to install.
Nov 25, 2019
Nov 25, 2019 at 5:30 PM UTC
Vamos matar o presidente;
Vamos enterrar o João Goulart;
Porque o mundo está confuso;
E está sem estrada pra caminhar.
Estou aqui desde às 19:00 de ontem;
Só escrevendo como você me machucou;
E de como não consigo me submergir;
Dos seus olhos castanhos.
Preferia, continuar escrevendo sobre a Kampf;
Pelo menos, era uma paixão;
Que apenas iria acontecer no Dia de São Nunca.
Já você;
É uma paixão confusa e promíscua;
Que irá voltar;
Com os dois filhos no colo;
Reclamando: Falta de amor.
E quando eu disser ''sim'';
Você será um poema que não vou saber mais escrever.
Sep 13, 2017
Sep 13, 2017 at 12:05 PM UTC
if do what thou wilt
is to be the whole of the law
what of the inevitable transgressor
an eye for an eye
is just the blind leading the blind
but minds leading minds is no better
May 10, 2016
May 10, 2016 at 5:07 PM UTC
Billy found, what he thought to be, a wise old book.
Turns out, it had been written by a wretched crook.
Without this knowledge, Billy read it all.
While sitting down several lunches, in a high school hall.
The pages were pretty haggard.
Though, the message within wasn't staggered.
The cover and introduction had been ripped out.
Leaving its title a matter of doubt.
This was one of the first things Billy had read.
Little did he know, through its author, many were dead.
The contents of this book, filled with hate.
A diary written from behind a prison gate.
Teachers, who saw the boy reading, told Billy they were proud.
And did so in front of his fellow students, aloud.
Billy was told he was well on his way.
To a good job gifting him hefty pay.
Then, one day, Billy punched a Jew,
In a tempered assault witnessed by few.
Teachers asked about what had caused the act.
Billy held up the book as a matter of fact.
He spoke with a hatred unknown to most,
But believed it righteous as he was quick to boast.
One teacher plucked the book from his hand.
Seeing Mein Kampf, he was quick to understand.
Aug 16, 2014
Aug 16, 2014 at 2:19 AM UTC
Upon reflecting with misty eyes
childhood days of yore
the mantle of anticipatory
excitement mantle I wore
upon advent of December
twenty fifth not quite threescore
years ago knew nothing
about being dirt poor
yours truly doggedly felt sense
of belonging among k9 korp
versus moody blues hangdog
look resembling Eeyore.
Now fast forward envisioning
gray bewhiskered scraggly
muttering old Unitarian
that would be yours truly courtesy
hyperbole as would be obvious
upon quick visual scan,
who dabbles writing
at least one poem within
twenty four hour
time frame i.e. quotidian
basis, eh not
so much an outdoorsman
these days and definitely not,
nor ever trumpeted
taps as militiaman
within the ranks of Kublai Khan
emperor of China, and
grandson of Genghis Khan
I remain holed up within
one bedroom apartment
unit b44 as iceman,
no, not by choice,
but series of unfortunate events
primarily faulty heater
at the mercy of fate,
a mere dice toss gameplan
always associated as separate
among establishmentarian
forever dreamily fancying
married to countrywoman,
combination platter academician.
Lo and behold days
mein kampf slipped and slid away
leaving faded memories
precious young lad oft times
felt alienated (think) castaway
yet simultaneously unable to flyaway
loosing self from mother's apron strings,
while slipping grip signals foray
into abyss conjured courtesy
thru information superhighway.
Reflection upon tempus fugit
incredulous kick **** lightspeed
precocious age sentimental reverie storybook
happy go lucky idyllic past indeed,
then bound by ignorance,
hence blissfulness no longer doth proceed.
Dec 25, 2019
Dec 25, 2019 at 2:28 PM UTC
i know that the devil is blamed for much evil, but so little evil is condensed into words... imagine what good would have arisen had mein kampf been protected from the assurance of third party muscles being exerted into verbs from orientating out of nouns with ego as pro / favouring the disnobling of stone with a human voice as thus named, stone, thrown. imagine? too late, history has been written; hell... evil doesn’t really write, it just acts on impulse... good writes a lot, so much that being good becomes fiction, obviously, since fiction exists, which naturally compares with evil furthered as a denial of some sort in the historical context orientating an established contnet.
so a bunch of anthropologists and some other etc.
met at the top of the pyramid and discussed
whether a labourer believed in paradise right at the bottom...
and the labourer said... well... i don’t care
for top or bottom, but the corner-stone doesn’t exist
as a crucifixion for the rest of this structure to be
elevated and stable... surely?!
i actually forgot to mention in one poem,
christianity’s saving grace numbers only one:
doctor heal yourself...
well by saving i mean amused grace -
doctors reconsider proclaimed fault progress,
and thus claim knowledge as acquisition rendered revelatory
via progress rather than a stasis of intuition / i.e.
fake knowledge / hidden work, as all magic serves
in whatever limitation is necessary for a logic to express its full potential;
esp. if hidden and if revealed only upon the crucifix.
i hate those idiots at the top... the beatniks would have
just called them squares... we have to just call them atheists...
or if you’re polite english... ***** / wankers.
Dec 8, 2015
Dec 8, 2015 at 9:44 PM UTC
silt is sand and sand is silt
let them ride it out like
Shelley & Keats
romantics deep in that sand
because if they had sunk
the toes into the fleshy
parts and more then I must
confess that they would
tell on them selves
they who were
true were wild
like wolves
without apology,
and they died
exactly so
Xactly so shall
they all true souls
pay blood to the
witness, seeing is all you have
you must be a laugh
the one with the wings too survive
when camps happen
camps are coming
for me and for you
if you don't see it
it still don't stop
the mein campf
Sep 1, 2018
Sep 1, 2018 at 6:24 AM UTC
Often we will hear of the inconceivable happening thousands of miles away
And we think to ourselves "how terrible"
Grieving for a day or two, maybe more if it's closer to our hearts
But the daily drill is still of income and payments and staying afloat
We're all numb
And there is a war out there that isn't civil
There is no boarders just a small slum Or a big city transit
All with ghosts now in their ruins
We live in fear or in blind ignorance
Because it comes up so much in the main media that there is no more room for us to care
We want to care
We sympathize
We forget in a month
Moving on to the next bullet to travel through a minority's chest
And we mock a groups once valiant efforts turned sour by the anger in their minds
One by one another greedy one takes advantage of the pain to use for their campaign
A generation that grew up believing they could be the very best now only believing that they are worth nothing
A time period that will forever be a joke in a few years time
But our struggle is not mein kampf but it is OUR TIME TO BE ALIVE
we are just living
We are
Just living in another time
Time
That will be remembered through figureheads and not the experiences felt
So here is for the tears
Not the water falling from our cheeks but the divide in the culture
Aug 10, 2016
Aug 10, 2016 at 2:59 AM UTC
Courtesy food pantries
Saint Eleanor's Saint Mary's,
Our Daily Bread,
the missus and yours truly (her spouse)
well stocked with good n plenti of
soap, shampoo and detergent.
Spongebob squarepants
would be in seventh heaven,
where sudsy clouds (resembling
Mister Krabs, Plankton,
Sandy Cheeks, Squidward, et cetera),
would drift across celestial vault.
Gratitude bequeathed to prophets of virtue
benevolent good samaritans
who trend righteous true
to the calling of helping hands who renew
faith (mine) in goodness of humanity
assisting not only yours truly
and the missus, but people
from South American country named Peru
or even indigenous tribes
accorded recognition comprising
population of inhabitants occupying New
Zealand, offered reparations
under the Treaty of Waitangi,
a process of reparation allowed
Maori to be fully recognized
at political level in lieu
of unfair practices inflicted upon
original occupant loosely similar
to descendents of long lost tribes of Israel,
endowed with (pure tin) pride
wishing I too could call myself proud Jew,
nevertheless attraction manifests destiny
(mine) someday to learn Hebrew.
Courtesy atheism more so Unitarianism,
I need not adopt
an explicit dogmatic, fanatic, humanistic...,
lunatic, narcissistic, puritanic... paradigm,
but only tout poetic justice (mine)
to recognize laudable traits
linkedin to orthodox faiths,
albeit rationalistic rubric
that caters to selflessness
for no other reason
than allowing, enabling, and promoting
random acts of kindness
without any forthcoming great expectation
downplaying remuneration,
no matter destitution begot mein kampf
hard times living within bleak house
slight hyperbolic exaggeration
poor as a cheesy church mouse poet.
Lemme coast to a fitting conclusion
bringing reasonable rhyming blather
originating courtesy me noggin,
within which wool doth gather
thus I a halt and
dial down philosophical lather,
cuz most likely
ye dear reader would rather
experience palmolive oil slather
preparatory to full body massage.
Dec 16, 2021
Dec 16, 2021 at 8:39 PM UTC
Unfaithful marital transgressions
self admitted indictment,
crime and punishment,
no longer think high lee
entailing no mister re: demeanors,
I searingly weathered
(George by bushed, albeit thankfully,
no unwanted child left behind),
nonetheless one unforgettable
indelible, execrable, and abominable
professedly owned his
civil warring battle of life
transgressions undeservedly heaped
(Uriah hit about that)
(carnal feral hormonally seething
gone astray nightwalks)
woven by basket of deplorable
emotionally painful selfish object lesson
forever etched upon mine psyche
(left by one bobbing sponge -
cheeses crust station of his life
within sea of human life now
affixes moniker re: mister *****
inflicted courtesy yours truly
said marital indiscretion (philandering)
one among many issues discussed,
during treatment plan earlier today
February eighteenth 2020
concerning complex edifice
regarding mein kampf
existential bleak house
(figuratively crowded cheek to jowl)
with and hard times
fraught with many
unattained great expectations
unwittingly accepts psychological fallout
(among kissing kith and kin,
a shellfish chicken and hen thing for sure),
despite years elapsed ex post facto
deploying, incorporating, narrating, signifying...
narcissistic, opportunistic, and phlegmatic
self incriminating doom
visualize deus ex machina
betrayal rendered adopted smugness
invariably set in motion domino effect,
whereby emotional alienation
devastation, humiliation, maturation, suppuration
(yoking impossible mission
to shuck off penitence, the price to pay),
thus rightfully, truthfully, and veritably...
ably, readily, and willingly
allowing, enabling, and providing
incomplete resolution, (hence iresolution)
thwarting rancor thy deux daughters
(livingsocial many time zones distant)
embark quest to guide their own
metaphorical maiden voyaging ships of state
countless transpired hours
at counseling facility, where poetic papa
aired and mulled over bothersome
anguish to complete requisite treatment plan
to receive psychiatric appointment
next (and last) Tuesday of February 2020.
Feb 18, 2020
Feb 18, 2020 at 10:43 PM UTC