PERHAPS THEIR BEST BREW YET??

                                                                 

 They’re getting closer! 

I can almost smell the straw inside their brooms!!

As one who can trace their deep ancestry to the time of the actual MacBeth, clever potions definitely captivate me. What, then, do the three witches have in store for us this year? Well, I just so happened to get a copy of their 2026 concoction, and it’s beautifully toxic!!!

 

Frass from hair plugs,

Eyes of trout;

  Rosacea-laden skin and snout…

Lethal drones that fill

The sky;

Lips of filler,

Tongues that lie…

Swollen legs and purplish hands;

Bags of grimy rubber-bands…

Shady lawyers,

Crooked docs;

Moldy gumdrops,

Muddy crocs…

 

Seashells left at sandy beaches;

Bleached-out fish bones;

Blackened leaches…

Creases from the brow

Of Harp;

Maggots, glow-worms,

Bloated carp…

Nipples from the chest

Of Vlad;

Every dirty

MAGA ‘ad’…

Mix together, stir like hell:

‘Till this potion froths and swells;

Who will dare to taste its spoon,

And shoot those mid-terms to the moon!?!

poem written by L.P.-G. / 10-2026 

IT’S JUST SO TOTALLY HEART-BREAKING

 

They’ve lost their parents, they’ve lost their homes: orphans and destitute, displaced people needlessly accumulate in lands far, far away [and through no fault of their own]. Yet, there’s someone who takes no interest in such human suffering, for he was born without empathy. It seems he’d much rather boast about his ill-gotten wealth, embark on self-serving vanity projects, host car races, and impose hefty tariffs than study the tragic consequences of war and the plight of the poor. Although this sentiment could easily apply to other foreign leaders, my criticism is aimed closer to home. As well, if there’s truly a place in the after-life called ‘heaven’ where one is finally able to acquire the unvarnished truth about everything, what must his late mother think of his debacles? It’s said that the pen is mightier than the sword… Accordingly, I write:

MARY’S LAMENT TO ( a different ) MARY

Oh Hail, Holy Mary!

Of infinite grace!

Please kindly relinquish

This man’s roguish place.

 

I wished for a son

Who would make me soooo proud;

Instead, I got this one:

Brash, crass, coarse and loud…

His grown sons are greedy;

His wife’s called a whore;

His rambling-rant speeches

Are false to their core.

With faults so egregious,

[Where do I begin?]

Giving birth to this fool

Proved the ultimate sin!!!

TAKING A KNEE AT 54th STREET:

                                

Count me in…

             

 

Greed kills people in many different ways; greed is not ‘good’…correct?

Ode To The Eighth Month

 

MY Ode To The Eighth Month

Those first weeks of August,

Earth holds them quite dear;

Soft winds trace the meadows,

The sun’s chandelier

Stares down trodden pathways

Where sand-castles veer…

New sunflower seedlings;

Through rain, hearken cheer;

Cool drops splash pale petals,

Bright rays wipe things clear…

Blue waves gather seashells

As seagulls shed tears;

No matter the mind trap,

The road’s always here…

        If skies fade to russet

    Once autumn looms near,

    We’ll simply light candles

    And toast one more year !!

Poem written by L.P.-G. / 2026

JULY TURNS INTO AUGUST...and guess who's singing?

 

Their deafening cries

Often trouble our skies;

Such high-pitched,

Cacophonous wails!

I find their spent bodies:

[Discarded, dead armor],

Amongst dirty rags

And old pails…

Yet, tales wrung from nature

Make note of a feature

These creatures have

Harbored for years:

Their lives follow patterns

“Dog-day, or periodical”

Once known,

We can brace

Brittle ears!!

L.P.G. / 2026