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Lizard Love

March 30, 2018 — Leave a comment

There appears to be an abundance of lizards around our property. We see them every day. Sadly some of them sneak into the house and are met by one or all of my five cats who relish the challenge of a snack in motion.

Sad, because the lizards help eliminate little spiders and other tiny insects that can be a bug bear so to speak. I just like watching them out in the sun, soaking up some UV with their fleshy orange colored throat fans throbbing in and out like little lungs, which is their cute way of trying to attract a mate, which answers my original query. When it’s hot and sunny and they’re in heat (so to speak) they make other little geckos. Cool life in a hot climate.

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Just to let you know that while the March for Our Lives was taking place in DC there were protests against guns running concurrently in cities all over Europe. For example in Edinburgh, a protest which I presume had more to do with Trump rather than AR 15s.

As an American citizen I am pro 2nd amendment. Do I like guns? No. Have I held a gun? No. But in this country the 2nd amendment is an absolutely necessity.

Why Europeans were out in the street for this March for Life is beyond me. Paris, London, Glasgow. Lucerne etc. It does not affect them. It affects me because I live here but I can assure you I wasn’t walking up US1 in a pussy hat holding a placard.

The US has a written constitution. The U.K. does not have a written constitution. Maybe David Hogg and his teletubbies should think through the ramifications before jumping head first into their paddling pools.

I am disappointed in Europeans coming out on to the street protesting against something they do not understand. It strikes me more and more that the march was politically motivated and the money that paid for the 30 coaches to rumble into Pennsylvania Avenue did not come from Tinkerbell’s magic dust. Soros paid a million. Clooney paid half a million. Etc. it’s maneuvering new young voters away from the evil Trumpsters so they can get a result in 2018 with virgin voters and henceforth impeach the POTUS. Won’t happen.

I for one will vote Trump so less of the ambivalence about me being a lib on the fence. I’m an independent. I veer right. Hence my vote for Trump in November. Immigration is my big worry. Should be for all Americans. I will not vote Dem. If there is no wall and no resolution to the DACA problem adios America.

So America has to deal with it and cannot be told what to do by some brats that cannot open a tin of beans or change a tire.

And don’t jump off the Trump train over one terrible bill. (The military needed the money. The pork was cancerous.) The consequences would be so severe you’d be better off jumping under the train.

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My grandfather’s brother on my Dad’s side moved his family to Rhodesia from Scotland after WW2. They were in the Diamond business. His daughter became Editor of the Hong Kong Wall St Journal. Very successful. Proud protestants, generous to everyone who worked for them.

Since the whites have been marginalized and these animals have taken over this is going to end up in a complete and utter bloodbath. The black population over there haven’t got a clue how to live like normal human beings in a civilized society.

It’s not racist. Ian Smith, was probably one of the most controversial Prime Minister’s ever, but Rhodesia prospered under his leadership. Now he has long gone, we can see the inevitable result and we can probably agree things are not going to end well. This is a disaster in the making. We have to support the white farmers.

Magical Thoughts

December 9, 2017 — Leave a comment

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When I experience hurt

I indulge

In magical thinking.

Very annoying

For others,

Unfamiliar with the technicalities

Behind my tricks.

 

 

He or she

May say,

That “I” am mistaken in my observations.

But with the wave of

My magical thinking wand,

I create mystical anagrams,

And hey presto,

I pull a bunny

Straight out of

The top hat.

 

Sadly, the rabbits

Only live as long

As the delusion,

And I find it draining

When they keep coming along

Day after day after day.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The Dinner

November 4, 2017 — Leave a comment

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Ode To Social Anxiety

 

Sitting opposite my wife

With my napkin

On my lap,

I gripped my fork and stabbed the duck,

Marinated in weird oriental sauces, so I thought,

Served with a smashed potato,

As I was crushed by an

Intensifying anxiety,

Aware (or thinking) that the two diners

At the next table

Were watching me.

 

My mouth was as dry as the skin on the bird,

My stare as steely as the knife by the dinner plate,

And the guy with the beard and glasses grinned

And whispered something to his wife

Who turned around

To look at me.

 

And I chewed on the meat that was as tough as nails

Between my teeth,

 

And I knew I was not only fighting a losing battle

With my culinary skills

But also, the people around me,

Who I knew,

Found my side profile odd,

And disconcerting.

That was the only explanation I could find.

 

We were on a ship and had no choice,

Our seats were allotted arbitrarily,

At the reception desk,

And my fellow diners, complete strangers,

Now had to contend

With my presence,

Having spoiled their evening

With my glancing and scanning

To see who was watching,

And guessing that they must be thinking

What I knew to be true,

Without validation.

 

I do look odd from the side,

So they say,

And the duck, was really quite tough.

When the diners had gone

I asked the waiter

“What was the sauce” and he said

It was  plum puree.

Plum.

Puree.

 

And the ship sailed along

As we finished our wine

A man sang a song

We were both feeling fine,

And the diners had gone

To their cabins to sleep

Outside there were stars

And waters so deep.

 

But I didn’t go back

The following night

To our table

Beside

The strangers.

The inherent dangers

Of projecting our fears

On each other

Can be put aside

Because

We will never see

Each other again.

 

 

 

 

Trap

April 3, 2017 — Leave a comment

Wandering between two points

With no other exit plan

Wondering if I 

Will ever see the light of day

Again

Even though

The sun is covering the earth

In sweet golden light

I am trapped between coordinates

I put in place myself

Over time.

Rhetorical

February 20, 2017 — Leave a comment

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I can’t shake off this furious anxiety

That thwarts my breathing, to

Shallow repetitive beats,

Obscuring

My capacity

For normal thoughts,

 

And when I wondered why those

Intermittent perturbances

Should even be?

The question

Answered itself.

 

 

Image from The Odyssey Online

The Fisherman’s Jug

February 9, 2017 — Leave a comment

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The oak table in the corner, sturdy and solid,

Under the candelabra ,

In the farmhouse,

A cracked jug on top.

 

With other kitchen accruements

Laid out neatly

By the stove,

The plates and tankards

Strung on the wall,

It’s easy to ignore

The cracked jug.

 

Most visitors were apathetic

Regarding the unglazed vessel

That had been left

By an old fisherman.

 

Even the new tenants

And their friends

And families

Dismissed it

As aesthetically spoiling.

 

And the old fisherman

Who once lived there

Knew what it was like

To be ignored

And untouched

And unloved,

 

Saw the blemish on the jug

As a scar

That defined the jug

A perceptible imperfect mark.

 

So before he died

The old fisherman

Dropped a large pearl

Inside the jug

And left it there.

 

When he was gone,

And when people came by the farmhouse

They ignored the dirty old jug

Sitting alone;  like the old man

Would sit alone,

Not realizing that if they looked inside,

They would see the real beauty

The true value,

And their lives could have been changed

Forever.

And they come to tea
Uninvited
Fondling my fragile china cups
Tedious tapping of a tea spoon
On a saucer.

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Only to have my faith and peace trashed
And crumpled up
And thrown back on to the path.

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