Before me stood a paper-laden desk
I’d say it fit the plain description Kafkaesque.
The say a mountain of unfinished, urgent tasks
can be endured, by some, while others must wear masks,
for me, I find a place to rest my aching feet
among the mess they make the disarray look neat.
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Uncle Sam is not respected,
Jewish humour well deflectedMatzoballs in musty drag.Muslims show their forty-sevens,DIVIDE(E) ET CONQUERA,make a kingdom of the Heavensfrom the Rhine to Africa.Knuckle under, Christian Diggers,time has come that Allah rules.Into slaves we turn white niggers,make from infidels new fools.Now the hordes of desert dwellerssweep aside the taste of love.Leaving only Rockefellers,with the blessing from above.
Of all you innocent naives
who sees the grand new planof modern genocide?There are so many eaters,use up our food supply,let pestilence come nowand add a bit of war.Let them eat shonky meals,and tell them crafty lieswe follow new commandmentsthe Reaper rules our lives.Too much is now amissthe word humane has beenreplaced by convoitiseand God looks down and smiles.
Bye, bye, oh my, to freaks like fry
I hear the great communal sighwhich signifies such sorrow,but I don’t likethose filthy swinewho snort around the streetsI will retreat, drink good red winesleep in on silken sheetswho needs the shit that Berrie poopsor that of Bobschen Blighthey may succumb in their own soupsbut I do say Good-Bye.
Johann Sebastian,
inside your house.First with the school,then with the Musikusof Eisenach, in Spring.There is the castle,with the old spotof fifteenth century ink,and dusty pageswhere Martin Lutherand his own devilstretched the stringsof his companion,the violin handmadein Klingenthal.He never didimpress a single one,nor did the devil stayto listen to the sounds.I must admit that I,who was expected totake…
The snow comes down so lilywhite
it is a most delicious sightI love those frosty scenes.And in a while I do supposeI’ll build me a big matea snowman with a carrot nosebefore it is too late.For when the sun comes out in forceand looks at all the snowit’s time to get my hobbyhorseso we can watch the show.I’ll sit upon my…
The choice of what we say and write
To choose a term with real bitethink of the signal that it sends.To make a point, to call a spadethe garden tool that it must beis fine, but amber lemonadeought not be labelled….you know….pee.Why is it that our kids perusethose terms that make us oldies wince,we sit at home and sip our boozeand wonder why,…