In Chibok,
An IED finds it way
Into the mind of a savage sect
And made good use of the emptiness therein.

In helplessness,
Some school girls are bundled up
From their school compound;
Taken for a noisy ride into Sambisa;
From where they will forget
Their mothers’ voices.

On the tube,
There is a very loud lady
Anathematising the “sharing” of blood
In Borno.

When she is done,
The media is awash with the sound of
‘Na only you waka come?’

As if it is a joke
To ****** young Nigerian girls
From the four walls of their classroom
Into the coldness of the wilderness
To dwell amongst wild beasts.
To learn new lessons;
Weird lessons.

In bed at night,
My wife talks of
Church bombings;
Internally displaced persons;



Slaughtering of citizens
And the role of government in all of these
And the security of our country
And I pulled at the hairs
From around her second mouth
To make her change the topic
And she falls for it and changes the topic.

The white bearded Mallam
On the rickety bus to Yola
Fixes his eyes on me
Like some foreigner
And I feel the fire
All through the trip
And I burn and burn and burn
Like the victims of Nyanya motor park blast
It feels good though to know
What it takes to
Be burned into countless degrees.

But after three weeks
I am back to normal again
I can feel again
My senses are back again
Working optimally
And I can hear again
As the presidential pit-bull
And the black parrot
The one that used to be
In the fourth estate of the realm
Begin to mete and dole out
Slippery speeches, speeches you can’t hold
That comes upon our ears
To push out every substance
From our heads


Everything except this load of hopelessness

This bitter bile in our mouth
This unwanted fetus
That no one would claim

And then the hash tags;
The media craze;
The count down
The women in red
And the men that joined
The bring back our girls
The Michelle Obama
The celebrities from across
The noise, the sweat, the blood
The ****** thighs of those girls
Their torn underwear
Their wails, their sobs, their pains
To say the least
The echo, the deafening echo
And how we wave them all aside
And look the other way.
Like it did not happen at all
Like it was just a movie
Directed by a director
That must be a sadist  
We sweep it under the carpet
Like our other numerous
National issues

But I won’t write another story on betrayal
I won’t write another poem
On how a nation
Could forsake her innocent children
Instead I would write of a country

Steeling, steeling, growing
Growing resilient to emotion;
Becoming many times dead

To any feeling
Tearing its tissues to pieces
And building new ones
That will be senseless
Lifeless
Bloodless.

And the noise
And the noise
And the noise.






















In Chibok,
An IED finds it way
Into the mind of a savage sect
And made good use of the emptiness therein.

In helplessness,
Some school girls are bundled up
From their school compound;
Taken for a noisy ride into Sambisa;
From where they will forget
Their mothers’ voices.

On the tube,
There is a very loud lady
Anathematising the “sharing” of blood
In Borno.

When she is done,
The media is awash with the sound of
‘Na only you waka come?’

As if it is a joke
To ****** young Nigerian girls
From the four walls of their classroom
Into the coldness of the wilderness
To dwell amongst wild beasts.
To learn new lessons;
Weird lessons.

In bed at night,
My wife talks of
Church bombings;
Internally displaced persons;



Slaughtering of citizens
And the role of government in all of these
And the security of our country
And I pulled at the hairs
From around her second mouth
To make her change the topic
And she falls for it and changes the topic.

The white bearded Mallam
On the rickety bus to Yola
Fixes his eyes on me
Like some foreigner
And I feel the fire
All through the trip
And I burn and burn and burn
Like the victims of Nyanya motor park blast
It feels good though to know
What it takes to
Be burned into countless degrees.

But after three weeks
I am back to normal again
I can feel again
My senses are back again
Working optimally
And I can hear again
As the presidential pit-bull
And the black parrot
The one that used to be
In the fourth estate of the realm
Begin to mete and dole out
Slippery speeches, speeches you can’t hold
That comes upon our ears
To push out every substance
From our heads


Everything except this load of hopelessness

This bitter bile in our mouth
This unwanted fetus
That no one would claim

And then the hash tags;
The media craze;
The count down
The women in red
And the men that joined
The bring back our girls
The Michelle Obama
The celebrities from across
The noise, the sweat, the blood
The ****** thighs of those girls
Their torn underwear
Their wails, their sobs, their pains
To say the least
The echo, the deafening echo
And how we wave them all aside
And look the other way.
Like it did not happen at all
Like it was just a movie
Directed by a director
That must be a sadist  
We sweep it under the carpet
Like our other numerous
National issues

But I won’t write another story on betrayal
I won’t write another poem
On how a nation
Could forsake her innocent children
Instead I would write of a country

Steeling, steeling, growing
Growing resilient to emotion;
Becoming many times dead

To any feeling
Tearing its tissues to pieces
And building new ones
That will be senseless
Lifeless
Bloodless.

And the noise
And the noise
And the noise.


In Chibok,
An IED finds it way
Into the mind of a savage sect
And made good use of the emptiness therein.

In helplessness,
Some school girls are bundled up
From their school compound;
Taken for a noisy ride into Sambisa;
From where they will forget
Their mothers’ voices.

On the tube,
There is a very loud lady
Anathematising the “sharing” of blood
In Borno.

When she is done,
The media is awash with the sound of
‘Na only you waka come?’

As if it is a joke
To ****** young Nigerian girls
From the four walls of their classroom
Into the coldness of the wilderness
To dwell amongst wild beasts.
To learn new lessons;
Weird lessons.

In bed at night,
My wife talks of
Church bombings;
Internally displaced persons;

Slaughtering of citizens
And the role of government in all of these
And the security of our country
And I pulled at the hairs
From around her second mouth
To make her change the topic
And she falls for it and changes the topic.

The white bearded Mallam
On the rickety bus to Yola
Fixes his eyes on me
Like some foreigner
And I feel the fire
All through the trip
And I burn and burn and burn
Like the victims of Nyanya motor park blast
It feels good though to know
What it takes to
Be burned into countless degrees.

But after three weeks
I am back to normal again
I can feel again
My senses are back again
Working optimally
And I can hear again
As the presidential pit-bull
And the black parrot
The one that used to be
In the fourth estate of the realm
Begin to mete and dole out
Slippery speeches, speeches you can’t hold
That comes upon our ears
To push out every substance
From our heads

Everything except this load of hopelessness

This bitter bile in our mouth
This unwanted fetus
That no one would claim

And then the hash tags;
The media craze;
The count down
The women in red
And the men that joined
The bring back our girls
The Michelle Obama
The celebrities from across
The noise, the sweat, the blood
The ****** thighs of those girls
Their torn underwear
Their wails, their sobs, their pains
To say the least
The echo, the deafening echo
And how we wave them all aside
And look the other way.
Like it did not happen at all
Like it was just a movie
Directed by a director
That must be a sadist  
We sweep it under the carpet
Like our other numerous
National issues

But I won’t write another story on betrayal
I won’t write another poem
On how a nation
Could forsake her innocent children
Instead I would write of a country

Steeling, steeling, growing
Growing resilient to emotion;
Becoming many times dead

To any feeling
Tearing its tissues to pieces
And building new ones
That will be senseless
Lifeless
Bloodless.

And the noise
And the noise
And the noise.

Now she snaps her wings open, and floats away.
Her heart holds Him, but her hand aborts.
Searching for confirmation of a better world,
She prays to discern it, but without worship.
A believer she is, yet still fully skeptical.
She deciphers reflections from the gnostic,
The reality from the deceptive.
And hoping to fully and optimally filter the fictive
She dances with Him, going solely with the wind,
To wherever His capriciousness takes her.
She bows upon His whim.

I'm around too many people that are too obsessed with their bodies.
I'm afraid of being too skinny. I'm afraid of being too fat.
Molded into the right shape by the wrong society.
Pinching your tummy fat between sickly fingers with manicured nails painted blood red.
Your power lies in your body.
Men desire us
So we ought to be optimally desirable.
Inject fat from your *** into your lips
And give us a big sloppy kiss.

She asked me if I need you
though the walks
the talks
were blue.

Burdened with the headache,
the fear of something new-
repercussions to this decision-
an advocate much
   too valuable
to loose.

Harbor this fugitive of our love that runs deep,
obliterating oceans and barriers between.
Deciphering the waste from the optimally,
landing on my feet
means everything;
maintaining my faith,
a necessity.

Overwhelmed and anxious, I find relief-
in a sense of stability
in the event I flee.
        Always a way out,
        but not always-
back to thee.

She asked me if i need you,
but my response was meek.
"I wonder if I'll need him-
while floating out to sea..."

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When we ask questions
about how to be
optimally joyful and happy,
we have a chance
of discovering
some answers.

I search for happy people
and when I recognise
a joyful and happy person
I take clues
from how they are feeling, thinking and acting
to discover
how I can feel, think and act
to be optimally joyful and happy.

In an ideal
joy-and-happiness-society
would every person in society
including women
fulfil their potential
to experience optimal joy and happiness?
Would women be given
the freedom and encouragement
to express their unique authentic self
in an optimally joyful and happy way?
Would women be given
the freedom, encouragement, support and resources
to develop and exercise to the full
their talents
to experience optimal joy and happiness?

i wish it could have done it yesterday or last week even but theres no looking back. tomorrow isnt far away or it could be because time is as relative as everything else in this world (whether it's small because there aren't even 200 countries in it, or if it's large because 196 is actually very many). either way although time is absolutely relative i dont feel as though i have a whole lot of it. i digress. i was saying that i wish i did everything yesterday and hadnt put it off until today. but because i did im getting this weird panicky undercurrent as i wade through the river of life. if i were to be honest when asked "how are you" id reply "good and scared" if i was feeling good and "not good and scared" if i wasnt. every night as i prepare to waste the next 8 hours (optimally) of my life i count to myself the number of things i should have done that day that instead i put off til the next. its never a small number (Unless you think about it differently. Numbers are relative, after all). the worry i wake up with drives me like a nail through the day and the anxiety that remains drives me like a nail through the night (sleep is optional). when they are combined i write. i write without meter grammar spelling (sometimes) meaning (sometimes) or purpose (always). its a huge waste of time but i do it anyway

Every person
in the world
is deserving
of care:
care for their feelings
care for their health and well-being
care for their self-actualisation
care for what they need to function optimally
care for their joy and happiness.

Is ‘wisdom’
the principles
of how to live
in an optimally joyful and happy way?

(pronounced – u jai yah)

The following haphazardly cobbled together some few years past (initially as a reasonable rhyme), nevertheless sustained discipline yours truly mather of fact doth cotton metaphorical gin still spins (yarn not gonna believe poppycock) within livingsocial as outcast of poker flats pun gent, whereby I strive to meditate successfully daily upwelling groovy sensation some hours doth last balloons within me buoying airborne courtesy spiritual blast.

Approximately three plus decades ago, I became ambitious to learn Yoga Asanas blow pesky mind chatter away (postures) despite inflexible body non coe whopper rating adamantly refusing to bend doe like (no just at the knee), but essentially flow wing stretches, while uncomfortably seated go wing to floor.

Mine physique experiences non Joe veal extreme difficulty involved simply seating stiff - NO can do sitting, whence, bony **** versus slightly more addy Poe posterior padding (viz junk in trunk) at present. The status quo mutter hoof act honest to dog cross my heart ambition roe bust lee expended to do more than sit on floor. Even slow lee sliding downward muscular flexion quite, a temporary restraining order i.e. TRO figurative and literal stretch.

Nonetheless, this persevering Lake wobegon soul lowered slender body, (when eye attended class) at Yo Yo ma intentional community within Sumneytown, Pennsylvania named Kripalu Yoga Community, where residents adapt macrobiotic diet under too till edge via auspices of cherished founder (Amrit Desai, i.e. Guru Dev).

Before entering sanctified space everybody removed their shoes often (now and again) guests welcome to partake regimen at said rue **** men tree idyllic retreat offering general public an opportunity true lee worth effort to experience this alternative lifestyle.

Though “U” might already be a pro unlike me, who didst barely progress as aye re: view memories toward greater flexibility minimally made one lasting whew benefit constituted of deep breathing asper you dull lies segue-way into light trance intended meditative zooming into mindfulness away from rat race. Even to this day, an effort gets made to set space aside time to transcend cares and concerns trace sing worry lines from uncertain future, and vase a versa if conditions favorable induce lightness – erase sing major concerns of being if perchance, face shill contortion asper body doth trite hoo easy and grace full flowingly, gently, harmoniously, indubitably lace limbs one into another - joyfully, kinesthetically, at comfortable pace.

Ewe experience lambent maneuvering naturally, optimally, peacefully, quietly, surreptitiously, et cetera into deep sleep of a hilly Edenic mirage tenderly controlling inhalation, and exhalation might seem silly, sans breathing hopefully remains sustained.

As a novitiate practitioner with ***** Wonka, this magical, modality (qua zee moat *** modus operandi) regarding, striving toward ultimately vast wrestled xfinity, yielding zestful fling away global concerns all the while grappling dutifully attaining jingling mystical state of consciousness, (perhaps mental experience a king dome all to itself, similarly venerated, vis a vis basically comprehend ping pong per positive phrases analogy, asper anyone who reads and understands this ring gull ling communique) as I attempt to describe mesmerize zing, mindset mosaic explicit words seem da fish hint.

Thus analogous self induce hypnotic cerebral deep minted experience possibly more clear to envision without stinting the reeder. Nonetheless, the conscious, deliberate guided “high” kickstarted courtesy Ujjayi breathing, which tint head breath comprises breathing technique employed in different
variety of Taoist and Yoga practices.

In relational mash mich hug gun flint sparking neurons to ascend Yogic exaltation, where mindset doth glint within casting glowing countenance whispering the ocean breath.

The length and speed of breathing aid did, controlled by diaphragm, strengthening braid did mental fiber which purposefulness of ujjayi without being fanatical, an effort gets made daily meditation teasing envisioned in laid within wafting warm waves (comprising grade “A” leased half hour, but no more than twenty four). If time constraints un war rented ala limited restraints disallow currying pour forth, the course fostering, inducing limned score arching relaxation merely practicing to open a door slow prolonged breathing bonjour can deliver (pizza pie) energizing feel akin to flying like Icarus above urban jungle roar.

before marital savings bond matured
as a then quinquagenarian.

Courtesy gerontologists medical practitioners
allowing, enabling, and providing
the elderly population to live
longer and healthier lives.

Linkedin with longevity loosely translates
to resurgent libido spurring
older folks predilection
to participate in ****** intimacy.

The downside (if such be the proper word)
regarding senior citizens
becoming or remaining flush
with embodied physical attraction
Gerontophilia barely alive
as buzzfeeding colloquialism,
nevertheless advertently, intermittently,
and unwittingly received
jump/kick starting excitement

here at Highland Manor,
especially scooter bound population
looking to spice her/his life
courtesy young stud or hottie
(stepping out pages of some
**** glamourous magazine)
secretly strategizing how to entice
lure, and understand "grandma"
or "grandpa" as ideal bed fellow.

An old geezer like yours truly,
would roll out his Scottish welcome mat
(comprised of Harris tweed material)
readily and willingly
welcoming respite from
a young gal responsive
to such juvenile, ******,
material devoid of absolute zero
with neither, pride and prejudice
apropos of maturity,
sense and sensibility,
nor wit and wisdom
as the following banal folderol
nominal representative sample exemplifies
what he frequently posted
on the fledgling Internet
back during the heyday

of electronic chat rooms.
COMPAQ PRESARIO
desktop (little tower - revolutionary
computer back in 1999 -)
chugged along (think the engine that could
exhaustively repeating the mantra
"I think I can, I think I can"
in order to facilitate
wheels that go round n around
like a twirling clown
or a psychedelic school bus

while painted ponies go up and down...
optimally operating like well greased levers
to reverse a frown
analogous to gingerbread man
happy as a clam
satisfactorily baked to perfection
a colorful character uniformly imbrown
similar to persons of color
found within outer limits
along edge of night
of twilight zone in the heart of motown.

No harem meant by the following
excerpts amalgamated, doctored, hewn,
linkedin, and sanitized version from outdated
prefabricated plundered digital broadcasts
talentless dearth as profundity
and/or qualifying as reasonable rhyme,
I do forthrightly bewail
paucity of thought provoking perspective
dill liver rd by Clyde S Dale
whimsical wordy zesty email

nothing ventured equates
to no gain nor any cause to fail
searching far and wide
for something akin to a holy grail
in the guise of a femme fatale
wherever she may hale
even if my search
finds me ferreting out jail
masterfully baited ...ha...ha...hmm...
this steely irony male

merely Joe King riddler,
one lone ranger high
in his blazing saddle
exclaiming "Hi-yo Silver"
cuz tis a violation of pure innocence
to ****** Vestal ******
before age of consent,
and also ill eagle,
whar *** may n daze existence
locked behind iron rail

bars with razor wire
in n attempt to scale
the bulwarks n escape -
bush whacking a trail
only to return to bedlam
and discover vis-à-vis
a  perspicacious wife
who did bemoan and wail
yours truly his indiscretion.

Fingers property handsome beau
thrum while poetic feet quiver
like fingers on a taut bow
with anticipation to hear soft
sure footed white or black crow
sitting on telephone wire talons didst flow
and crackle with electricity

thru wired connection
courtesy smooth bore little arquebus
and spindleshanks characterized bozo
weird friendship can grow
like a super fresh field
viz organic olive garden
of eat'n plump with organic food
betwixt yar thatch n my lil ***
property of common Joe

fully cognizant and in the know
scheming to experience
whet dreams are made
analogous to tightly, lovingly, and
exquisitely fit together
game pieces manufactured by lego
finished product resembling mistletoe
illicit affair indubitably,
ineluctably, invariably causing woe.

After primal desire fired away
I returned home
to the missus without delay
the scorned wife mine hide she did flay
when divorce sought, she did nay say.

therefore he characterizes himself as an anomaly...any idea why?

Mortified, petrified, stultified, et cetera sheltered,
and mortally wounded prepubescent,

I consider myself
analogously buttressed, cocooned,
garrisoned (for bing keeler),
hardened, insulated,
where cell baited jumping frog
o' Montgomery County ne'er
went leaving larvae stage,
now no divine providential
power can assuage,

yours truly metaphorically locked
within invisible iron bound cage
every occasion to shower
validates steep wage
permanently doled out,
yet tis futile to rage
against this human machine
i.e. body dielectric rampage
clocking three scored

orbitz chronological gauge
forever fixed feigned fodder,
when unlived uber story
of mein kampf writ faint
chicken scratch final page
gin hated anorexic
regressive toddling cribbage
deadly game of mine Life pampered
post infancy attended

Aladdin (a lad in) his hermitage
late childhood marriage
with grim reaper as
coefficient co-inhabitant
feasting emaciated lovely bones
verily scrawny, puny, and
nerdy, yea easy to lyft
courtesy lost livingsocial scrimmage
trademark spindleshanks -

stagnant embarrassingly useless
two legged equipage
at childhood's end...,
me skinny package then
weighing, eh no
more'n half dozen stone,
these days when
******* to wash
forced to espy physical

**** sapiens wreckage
constant visual reminder
this spare rankled, stunted,
tendered ship of state,
yours truly nah oh sage
enlightenment gleaned i.e.
20/20 hindsight kickstarted
quickened, leveraged, mortgaged...,
principly unbalanced worthiness

anatomical disparity
impossible mission to salvage
accounting rent permanently askew
fixed APR rendered
amortization sabotage
irreversible penalty suffrage
escaping serfdom volunteering
self as webbed vassalage
til death do me part.

Subsequently, his female
persona pacified, but *****
Wonka who could offer
the golden ticket
to the chocolate factory
(and provide restitution
to mine childhood,
whereat I could select
the road not taken
setting me on a course
to healthy maturation

of body, mind, and spirit)
honest to dog housed
somewhere in Philly
within himself aptly,
coed gently, optimally,
suitably, verily, wonderfully
called Anna Milly,
which readership reception
might surprisingly please Billy
me not intended tubby
icy cold nor chilly...

After chugging, guzzling,
sipping, quaffing... wine
bitter to this teetotaling
(pharmacological medication dependent)
tongue as quinine
undoubtedly equally unpalatable
getting pricked with rusty nine
inch nails, (thank you
Trent Reznor) analogous
to being crucified
(been there done that)
inebriated self actualization
regarding mine
mental clarity crossed

figurative thin blue line
abnormality dawned
inside fifty shades
of gray matter marinated
these long years in brine,
which realization bubbled,
fizzled, nudged, plastered,
eventually spurred
bile lent reflux
in short shrift
generating poem without
rhyme, reason, but
essentially drivel concocted
blimy verse unarguably asinine.

Just bear with me and
swallow this poetic bunk,
no matter (ah mint) absolute
zero ***** drunk,
nor other alcoholic beverage
(amber liquid of
the dog gods) downed,
despite feeling in
deep purple funk
cuz that would wreak havoc
courtesy grapes of

wrath fermented gunk
very little liquor necessary
to plaster laughingstock
(sand thrown in these myopic eyes)
by any best buy, garden variety,
home depot hunk
treating me like
unwanted, outdated, and housed
née cooped (with toys in the attic) junk
enshrouded himself covered
with dust evokes monk.

Quickly, mostly easily forgotten about
elapse of time promoted doubt
regarding, weekday, month, year...
and purposeless either
to twist or shout
cuz pervasive fishy developmental
gill tee subservience deeply
affected him while
trout fishing in America.

Complete Creative control
Apart from playing the lead role
I'd rather destroy my career
Than give others the power

Long drawn film making
Big budgets and months of scheduling
Multiple characters and sub plots
Bringing them together on a studio lot

Filmmaking style of his mentor
Spaghetti Western genre creator
Sergio Leone the director
Whose direction he did the trilogy under

Studio backed Actioner
Don Siegel was the auteur
Met his second mentor
Worked 5 films with this Director

Fast paced and minimalistic
Was Siegel' s characteristic
Fewer set ups to shoot
Lesser number of characters to boot

Direct approach to the story
No sub plots to deviate from the itinary
In your face filmmaking
No time wasted in its processing

Audience are intelligent
Premise he learnt to implement
Explanatory scene and dialogues done away
Both the styles he now had under his sway

Dots left unconnected on purpose
Audience watching him global and diverse
Each to their own conclusion
Was the underlying scoring point of his direction

Built a team at Malpaso
Regular Stock company scenario
Editor Cinematographer Designer
Made films like a express luxury liner

Handled various genres
Doubling as Actor and Director
Made everyone wonder
With his output as a Producer

Not low budget fare
But optimally budgeted affair
Restricted shooting days
Edited along the way

Handled off beat themes
Increased his creative esteem
Many remade later
Nothing like this master storyteller

A one night stand
Kept the viewer on the edge
A Drifter seeking vengeance
Ghost or brother left to the thinker

Alcoholic cop sent on purpose
Retrieve a witness who'll cause more trouble
A loser cop as a protagonist
Feather on the cap for this perfectionist

Love for Jazz and Country
Stealing a plane from another Country
Harry Callahan made you day
With Go ahead make my day

Priest saving a community
Disappearing affecting the continuity
Caddiallac comedy
Partnered with Charlie Sheen in the Rookie

Played the legendary John Huston
Premiered at Cannes and won good reviews
An Army film about the Marines
Wonderful film that's more that it seems


Dedicated a film to Sergio and Don
Compounded their skills in this milestone
An Anti Western about a reformed former bounty hunter
Deciding to saddle up to save his children from hunger

Deliberately paced and terse
Classic Western in every frame
Emotional emptiness of killers
Unwilling to conform to society and loners


Conscience is his friend
Whom he looses in the end
Kills those responsible
Regretting every time he triggered his rifle

Clint pays homage to his films
And his mentors in the credits
Reinvented his image  with merit
The film won 4 Oscars to his credit

This only covers half his career
Handled complex themes later
Never deviated from his core principle
Trusting his feelings m he for gut in the middle all the trouble

Never yells Action or Cut
Let's go and that's enough the way he puts
Principal photography ahead of schedule
Compromising on the quality not even miniscule

Ah..., how I idolize the days of yore
before June twentieth, and twenty first
two thousand twenty three
when utter senselessness wore,
a trail of woe brutally
ravaging and savaging mine psyche,
yours truly attests gullibility tore
and rent asunder
leaving cumulative finances
decimated, pulverized, and frankly zapped
rendering me poor
as a Unitarian church mouse named Kishore
***** deed done dirt cheap extempore
courtesy yours oblivious to "red flags."

I still bitterly lament how
the computer/scammer
who called himself "Harvey Specter"
exhibited exceptional faux zeal
and blame myself,
whereby figurative cog and wheel
within sixty plus shades
housing mine gray matter
did not properly turn
ordinarily (when perspicacity,
sensitivity, and acuity optimally function)

setting off an ear splitting squeal
loud enough to rouse
a sleeping Leviathan
when upon awakening would bellow
now cue the giant
from Jack and the beanstalk
Fee-fi-fo-fum!
I smell the blood
of an Englishman:
Be he alive, or be he dead,
I'll grind his bones to make my bread.

Nevertheless significant loss
viz medium of exchange
(enriching the coffers of another -
particularly him that scoundrel
née fraudster foisting financial fiasco
frazzling father most definitely nonideal
modus operandi I envisioned,
hence the gofundme page
(ofttimes sited with
gentility, honesty, integrity...
when crafting previous poems),
yet passage of time did not heal

severe financial hemorrhage,
keeping checking and savings accounts
analogously under critical care
(think intensive care),
whereby heroic measures undertaken
wads of cold cash linkedin
to many intravenous tubes
but ideally capitol offense
aired once again toward remuneration
imposed upon ganef

who bled me dry
courtesy convincingly, glibly, liberally...
sweet talking his way,
and I swallowed hook, line and sinker
(fabrication that Citizens bank employees
scheming to siphon investments)
yielded zilch (the big goose egg),
absolute zero positive result,
i.e. even partial remittance of lost monies,
when yours truly did make an appeal.

Which trend will continue some days before
winter solstice 2021 in Northern Hemisphere,
Tuesday, December 21 10:58 AM.
Yes, interestingly enough earliest sunset date(s)
along eastern United States
will occur December 7 and 8, 2021 at 4:28 pm EST.

Similar respective phenomena
takes place across globe.

Winter solstice constitutes
shortest day of the year in terms of daylight,
but does not have latest sunrise
nor earliest sunset of the year.

This prevails because discrepancy exists
between modern-day timekeeping methods
and how time is measured
using the Sun known as the equation of time.

The equation of time comprises
east or west component of the analemma,
a curve representing angular offset of the Sun
from its mean position on celestial sphere
as viewed from Earth.

I thoroughly enjoy onset of early darkness
unperturbed courtesy
seasonal affective disorder (SAD).

Alas and alack
matter of fact yours truly
optimally thrives when pitch black
skies immerse bookworm as impetus to crack
open a novel and/or read
one of my favorite (MAD) magazines
versus basking in sunshine which doth distract,
thus I while away hours appeasing
sixty plus shades of gray (cerebral) matter

processing criteria at greased lightning speed
considerably faster than once
venerably touted supreme ENIAC,
whereby mine figurative pistons
incalculably subvert additional
superfluous irrelevant flack
spurring me to burrow
deep inside invisible gunnysack
cause ordinary stress I could not hack

conveniently latched onto
ninety sixties counterculture mantra
"turn on, tune in, drop out"
popularized by Timothy Leary in 1966
essentially only in body not spirit
throughout academic foray,
I occupied space and time
paid dear price, cuz
submissive behavior heavily did impact

writer of these words a jejune Jack,
who during formative years
never dated, nor got jilted
cuz he possessed
unquestioned unhealthy uncanny
fealty and deadly eating disorder
body dysmorphia knack
positive image of self I lack,
an existence punctuated
by one after another panic attack.

Today the day
My father passed away
11 years to the date
Who can fight fate

Crosses my thoughts
Day after day
Lives in my heart
Night and Day

Your love for me
Till you feel hungry
Don't fool yourself
He used to tell me

Man of great talents
Communication almost absent
Man of few words
Heart the size of the universe

Very highly educated
Accounting and Taxation he meditated
Glorious corporate career
Used his skills till his end got near

Epitome of integrity
Naturally helping tendency
Value systems consistency
Known for his decency

Truth and God
His mates in his path
Never slipped once
Haven't met any since

Talent to invest
When to divest
Master in his own class
Shared his knowledge with all

Terrific strike rate
Would make fund managers irate
Percentage of growth in top gear
Beat the index year on year

Watched 4 movies a week
No other pleasure did he seek
Matinee idols on the screen
Watching them his only dream

Knew about the movies
Matching his subjects of study
Encyclopedia of cinema
An ocean to learn from

Investment banker or Movie critique
Easily shined in them too as a career
Not because he' was my father
His actions speak loud and clear

Calm disposition his personality
Empathy greatest quality
Loosing temper waste of energy
Long walks his tool to gain clarity

Never a negative word spoken
Nothing good to say don't say it
Conduct and Class predominant
Never expressed much emotion

House buzzing with family
Joint and extended
Treated all equally
Showed them Hollywood fares regularly

Alone or a Group
Fledging career or Rock Bottom
In the midst Calm or Chaos
Balance proved the man he was

Was he a Saint i often wonder
Or carried away because he's my father
A saint is a different dimension
But he was an excellent human being

His negatives i recall
Stored in my memory wall
Waves that leave behind salt water
Even in that we wet our feet with fun and laughter
Greatest strength not in these
Ray of light and a gentle cool breeze
They added to his inner core
Meaning of life and ways  of the world
Intuition and experience he optimally combined both

He loved Paul Newman
His birthday God chose as his death day
How else will you say
When the last movie he watched was HOMBRE

What would be the consequence for errors committed in ignorance?
Would that classification of failure somehow be a mitigating factor in our absolute innocence?

In the distant past, perhaps it was possible to have partial clemency on the basis of not exactly knowing?
However, Gods word says that time has gone by, and people will certainly reap what they are willingly sewing…

Built in to everyone is a conscience at the center of their core.
It instinctively informs without vagueness, what it is, the true God does abhor.

No complete escape from the gnawing that emanates from within.
Optimally operating, it is as a burning sensation, like having acid poured on the broken flesh, of our skin...

Of course the receptors of everyone’s moral sense does not function quite the same.
Some may be
semi-unaffected, by attempting to shift the blame…

The world at large teaches that ignorance is bliss...
However, wisdoms companion shrewdness, is the path of the one that many tragedies his life will surely avoid, and miss.

A blind man since birth will perhaps be in the same dark place he’s always known.
But even for him, honesty will illuminate his way, once he is instructed in truth, his heart will recognize it, down to the very marrow of his every bone.

So if in any doubt as to what is factually unerring in Gods point of view, urgently find out with accuracy what he has to say.
Always remembering, with God in matters of pure worship and innocence, there is really no grey...



J.I.F.



Ephesians 4:17,18
17 So this is what I say and bear witness to in the Lord, that you should no longer go on walking just as the nations also walk, in the futility of their minds. 18 They are in darkness mentally and alienated from the life that belongs to God, because of the ignorance that is in them, because of the insensitivity of their hearts.

Acts 17:30
30 True, God has overlooked the times of such ignorance; but now he is declaring to all people everywhere that they should repent.

Revelation 14:7
7 He was saying in a loud voice: “Fear God and give him glory, because the hour of judgment by him has arrived, so worship the One who made the heaven and the earth and the sea and the springs of water.”

Hebrews 4:12
12 For the word of God is alive and exerts power and is sharper than any two-edged sword and pierces even to the dividing of soul and spirit, and of joints from the marrow, and is able to discern thoughts and intentions of the heart.

Galatians 6:7
7 Do not be misled: God is not one to be mocked. For whatever a person is sowing, this he will also reap;  

Luke 4:8
8 In reply Jesus said to him: “It is written, ‘It is Jehovah your God you must worship, and it is to him alone you must render sacred service.”