A single life so worthless, that poor fly,
Sooner than its timely moment to die,
As commanded by my unnerving will,
Its incompetent life I chose to ****.

Put more simply, for disturbing my peace,
Its feeble and destitute life I ceased.
Yet my bloodstained hands always remained clean,
Once crimeful killing had become routine.

What almighty and sinful God am I
For unsparingly judging who must die
By my sword, without remorse or regret,
The slaughtered fly under my gavel, I forget.

An evil power from no source or spring
Springs power in me like a maddened King.

He runs with unbridled joy
And eats every biscuit that he licks
His eyes light up with every new toy
‘Twas a beautiful world and he was just six.

Learning to make friends at school
Coloring books, catching crooks
Pulling ponytails, breaking rules
Big eyes that mesmerize with every look.

Everything was beautiful bliss
But soon this peace was destroyed
His innocence was robbed starting with an unwanted kiss
And the soul became cold, dark and void.

The evil one dimmed his happy fire
And unsparingly exploited his vulnerability
Used his body for  evil desire
Repeatedly ***** him most ruthlessly.

That boy with the spark in his eyes is gone
Salty tears instead of the chocolate ice creams
Blamed god for everything that went wrong
But Alas! No one heard his screams.

He lies down exhausted
Nursing his wounds and scars
Waiting for the train to come around
He was spared to live long and far.

The evil one took everything that he had
But today he fights continuously
To spare others, his fate as a lad
Defiance to the evil one he shows tirelessly.

Because there’s one hope that leads him on
Wounds will heal, scars will fade
Remembering the pain, he cries alone
My son, I’m with you , do not be afraid.

Ode to My Hero (Me)
           to be sung by Donald Trump
    with apologies to Gilbert & Sullivan's
                   H.M.S Pinafore

As a callow youth I served a term
as Senior VP  of  my Daddy's firm
His moxie and his money so suited me
that now I am the ruler of the Trump fam'ly

When asked a question,  my Golden Rule
is to bluster loud and flaunt my cool,    
And this evasion so well suits me
that I've become the master of chicanery.

With legal suits, I've made so free
that all my smitten lenders bow down to me
For I pay my lawyers so liberally
that I never lose a dollar on a bankruptcy.

If now and then my luck runs out
I've buckets of money from my TV route,
And since my ******* up name is Gold
the money keeps a 'comin from the young  and old.

For my great fame they pay and pay
and their paltry savings they fling away
on Trump U studies  they're sure to find, will empty their wallets, not fill their mind.

So listen and learn from my Trumpery
and join white men who hate Hillary
They holler hosannas for their hero DonT, though for Trump adulation they can't beat me!

My heads not troubled by policy woes
'cause I learn all I want at beauty shows
I've put up very well with my three wives,
my yachts & my mansions & my gambling dives.


I've exalted myself unsparingly
and tossed off little lies with impunity
Let fey foes fault me as vain & mean,
their rightful envy leaves me quite serene.

With my big mouth and red regal head
I've clobbered all my rivals until they bled
With frank contempt I dissed Jeb B
bashed Carson & Kasich and Ted's lady.

There's hardly a Republican left to fight
and,  in wimpy Dems,  I inspire fright
while fearful folks seek my mighty arm
to shield them all from ISIS  harm.

Now I've come to the end of this very fine Ode
to march with pride on the Presidential Road
For my boundless bluster's so elevated me
that now I am the ruler of the GOP.

If another Trump you aspire to be,
you must never, never fret about decency.
Just stiff the losers and brag like me,
and you may be the Grand Old Party's nominee.

I miss you now, for the chance that
I may be spared later
You're more than enough
to bring me to my knees
from shock, to pleasure,
for fervent and long prayer yet
I stand while you shovel,
unsparingly, digging us deeper
I smile and you show me
how to be alone, together
Catching glimpses of
the bright side of the dark

You can share this breath of air,
if you come close enough

Hesitance resting upon us, dusts over
our desires, keeping me safe and you sound
Taking us nowhere, heavy sighs everywhere,
declaring war with the sound of emptying lungs
Unending battles beginning softly again and again
Filling lost minds with the fight to remain free

Two, itching to feel what it's like to become one
The space called waiting connects me to you,
pleasantly black, surrounding us separately
I begin to help you deeper, not stopping
to remove the damp earth from beneath my nails

You can share my one breath of air,
if you just come a little closer

I toy with the idea of breaking a resounding silence
Getting tangled up in the beginning of it all
Shall I call you teacher, indeed you are learning me quickly
Would I refer to you as my dear friend, words drenched in wanting
I could start, calling you by name, knowing I'd never pick up again
One word left hanging, and repeating, and killing me,
sweetly

You can take my last breath of air,
as long as I break away from here.

I've told you that I love you a thousand times or more
But you always replied in doubt and disbelief
I was always been convinced my words were nothing but honesty
But I was wrong, you were right
I lied

I fooled myself each time those three words slipped out
My punishments have already been given unsparingly
But these wounds are not all from battle as I see many injuries dealt by my own hand
Carrying the sentence for my dishonesty
Branding me a liar

You judged me well I give you that
And for once you did not lie as you do
My plea is guilty but I choose to appeal my case
My crime of not loving you was not my fault alone
For it was you, the mastermind, who did not let me love you at all

How? That all have tasted of love but I
Las delicias del amor en sus bocas
Yet they drink of it greedily,
Unsparingly, as if it were water;
Not realizing the Aegean nectar
That saturates their lips
No comprenden la escasez.
Wasteful, so wasteful
That I cringe at the foolish use
Of love, as if it were plebeian,
Not worth its weight in gold
El amor no puede ser comprado.
Love I knew thee once
Te conoci
And I lost, I!
Even I , who knew its value
And did not take it lightly,
Loving truly and eternally, yet
As quitado tu mirada de mi
O sun, o sun of mine: Love!

Everything, yes, is God, but tread
very carefully with that idea.
Knowing it doesn’t mean you need
to stop at every toad to kneel, repent,
or spend a more than average time
staring at a forest or a dinner plate.
When I was young the masters said
only Spaniards or Arabs could use
the word God in a poem, and those
only of a certain age and reputation.
They were wrong. Use God unsparingly,
in everyday speech, like the old sage who,
having forgotten all other words, requests
food and clothing and death with the same
Ram, Ram, Ram that is his entire language.
Or maybe better drop the word and hear
music as music, wind as wind, you and him
kissing as you and him kissing. Evolve
beyond naming, the fetish to divide.
Deep inside and silent is the thread
that links each thing together, but tread
carefully when you find you know. Knowing
places no compulsion on action or belief.
Be the monk you are or the hedonist. Remain
the friend, the brother, the frightened idiot.
Knowing this requires no change. If it
is not known softly then it is not known.

You brought them together; two stranger a cloth
The seam defining their bond as it does in a troth

You resurrect and blow life into a scarecrow lying on the hay
You also crisscross through wool as if you’ve got something to say

The tip and the end sinuously writhing; vanish and miraculously appear
Be it the muslin or the worn blanket, you’ve sewn the front and have deftly done the rear

In swift hands you plough the fibers with easing scud
But an iota of neglect and you unsparingly draw blood

Though a wonted thing you are and grace you may lack
When you are actually sought, you disappear in a stack

You pierce through the skin, some tattoo some make the doodle
A select few choose to go under the knife, others prefer the needle

Be it a slit, a cut or a gnash and all that may seem bizarre
You skillfully do your job gently leaving behind a scar

A thread firmly you carry and weave through the fabric of time
I have dwindled my eight but your stitch saved my nine

A rich man denied an entrance in the kingdom of heaven; so said the riddle
It is destiny that shall help the camel pass through the eye of the needle