The
Mystery of Don and Me
Don,
you were born to be you,
and
I was born to be me; the choices
you
made cost you dearly, and the choices
I
made were impossible to make, costing
me
a life not meant to be, But you became
you,
and I became me; and in the end,
we
got to where we were destined to be,
you
being you and me being me. That`s
the
mystery of Don and me that puzzles
everyone
but you and me.
Composed
in Tiny Beaches,
Georgian
Bay, Southcentral, Ontario
Saturday,
February 2, 2025
Life’s
Blessed Drudgery
That
last step is the shortest,
but
most difficult step you will ever
take
out of the ten million and one
steps
it took you to get there, that
joyful
place you were destined to be,
your
true self, resolved and free
of
life’s blessed drudgery.
Composed
in Tiny Beaches,
Georgian
Bay, Southcentral, Ontario
Sunday,
February 16, 2025
The
Lens of Our Perception
When
we look at life and see the good
and
bad in people, it’s the lens of our perception
that
determines our understanding; like the way
we
see Donald J. Trump, the billionaire President
of
the United States who continues to puzzle
the
world with what he says, some people seeing
a
morally corrupt conman just out for himself,
and
others a monomaniacal President hell-bent
on
making America great again. Good or bad, it’s
the
lens of our perception that determines how
we
see the 45th and 47th President of the United
States;
and when he meets St. Peter at the pearly
gates
of heaven, he won’t be asked if he was
good
or bad, but if he fulfilled his promise
to
make America great again.
Composed
in Tiny Beaches,
Georgian
Bay, Southcentral, Ontario
Wednesday,
February 12, 2025
When Writing Poetry
When writing poetry, I never pour the
large
into the small; the small will never contain
the large. When writing poetry, I always
pour
the small into the large, which will always
contain
the small. That’s my perspective on the
puzzling life
of Donald J. Trump, which was inspired by
the literary
genius of America’s preeminent man of
letters,
John Hoyer Updike, whose only duty was
to describe
reality as it had come to him and give
the mundane
its beautiful due. In the smallest details
of daily life,
Updike captured the big picture of the human
condition,
and his beautiful stories will be read
as long as there
is literature. My poems may one day slip
into obscurity,
but my muse informs me that President Donald
J. Trump
is not only going to save America’s democracy
from
the rot in the system, as he was called
by providence
to do, but to also change the course of
history;
and I trust the magical art of poetry
writing,
which does the thinking for me.
Composed in Tiny Beaches,
Georgian Bay, Southcentral, Ontario
Sunday, January 5, 2025
The Eye of the
Storm
I am where I want
to be, right here,
in Tiny Beaches, Georgean
Bay,
Ontario; and my state
of mind and soul
are at the
stillpoint of my life, that long
sought-after place
of wholeness where
the being and non-being
of my paradoxical
nature no longer vie
for more life,
that mystical union
of blissful resolution
of my inner and
outer self, the eye
of the storm in
the whirlwind of life—
mysterium coniunctionis.
Georgian Bay, Southcentral, Ontario
Tuesday, September 24, 2024
America’s
God-given Destiny
Powerless
to their shadow dark side,
they
cannot let go of their vitriolic hatred
for
the Donald who so got under their skin,
for
whatever reason—his insufferable ego,
his
resented billions, his unbelievable capture
of
the highest office of the land, his orange
hair,
his braggadocio, his mere presence offends
people—but
he won back the Oval Office and
became
the 47th President of the United States
and
is doing exactly what he said he was going
to
do to make America great again, and I can
hear
(I swear to God it’s not in my mind) the
dying
squeals of all Trump deniers who cannot
bring
themselves to admit how wrong they were
about
the man who broke the back of the woke
beast
that President Biden and Kamala Harris
unleashed
upon the American people that did
more
harm than all previous administrations, and
the
President set his wonder worker Elon Musk
and
his nerdy DOGE team free to take the rot out
of
government and make his beloved nation of the
United
States honest, safe, strong, healthy and
free
again to pursue America’s God-given destiny
of
leading the world out of darkness into the
light
of LIFE, LIBERTY, and JUSTICE.
New
post-election Trumpian poem
Composed
in Tiny Beaches,
Georgian
Bay, Southcentral, Ontario
Friday,
February 7, 2025
The Beast Called Woke
Donald J. Trump, the fearless President
of the United States, put his hands
around
the neck of the beast called Woke and chocked,
and choked, and choked until the beast broke
from the moral imperative of his executive
orders—there are only two sexes, male and
female;
no more men in woman’s sports; no more
DEI
hires; an order declaring free speech and
religious
liberty, and other morally restoring executive
orders from President Trump’s common
sense
mandate to the American people; and
within two
weeks of his 47th presidency,
a new spirit of hope
began to shine throughout the United
States
of America, and the whole world.
New post-election Trumpian poem
Composed in Tiny Beaches,
Georgian Bay, Southcentral, Ontario
Thursday, February 6, 2025
No Greater Vanity
Vanity of vanities, all under the sun
is vanity, sayeth the Preacher; but there
can be no greater vanity than the self-conceit
that some people have shown for Donald
J. Trump, the 45th and 47th
President of the
United States, whose only conceit was to
believe in himself and the American Dream,
working his way through New York’s treacherous
real estate business and out of the
invidious
snake pit of the radical left’s persecuting
lawfare
that would have, as sure as God made little
green apples, destroyed a lesser person; but
why do they despise him so? Can’t they see
the obvious mote in their eye? Is that what’s
blinding these Trump deniers to the salubrious
effect his restorative executive orders are
having
on the American people? Or are they just
too self-deluded to see straight?
New
post-election Trumpian poem
Composed
in Tiny Beaches,
Georgian
Bay, Southcentral, Ontario
Sunday,
February 9, 2025
Gaza
Bonanza
They
scoffed, as they always do,
when
President Trump threw it out there
to
chew on like a giant matzah ball,
his
ridiculous concept of a Gaza bonanza
rising
out of the ashes of their plundered
homeland,
it became tantalizingly seductive
the
more they pondered and reflected—all
of
that purposeful work and personal benefit
it
would generate for the Palestinians—within
fifteen
to twenty years of devoted attention,
that
desolate strip of cursed land could
well
become a heavenly blessing like a rich
and
prosperous Mediterranean riviera, proving
yet
again the visionary genius of Donald
J.
Trump, the 45th and 47th President
of
the United States of America.
New
post-election Trumpian poem
Composed
in Tiny Beaches,
Georgian
Bay, Southcentral, Ontario
Friday,
February 7, 2025
Just
the Man and His Purpose
The
bluster is gone, no more buffoonery;
just
the man and his purpose—Donald
J.
Trump, the 45thand 47th President
of
the United States of America, whose
obsessive
goal was always to make America
great
again. Nothing to prove anymore,
no
need to justify and explain his sacred
mission
of restoring his broken, ailing nation
from
the pernicious, soul-crushing, radically
progressive
woke ideology of the self-serving
Biden-Harris
administration, and make his
beloved
nation of the United States of America
safe,
healthy, strong, and as free as the
Founding
Fathers boldly envisioned
and
astutely Constituted.
New
post-election Trumpian poem
Composed
in Tiny Beaches,
Georgian
Bay, Southcentral, Ontario
Saturday,
February 1, 2025
Trump the Disruptor
A President like no other,
Donald J. Trump the Disruptor
imposed a 25% tariff on imports
from Mexico and Canada, and 10%
on China, and this sent Canadian
politicians into an alarming panic
of circling their wagons to protect
our juvenile nation from a recession;
but assessing the situation from
a place of dispassionate awareness,
I thank Trump the Disruptor for
stirring
the pot and waking my government
up to the real cost of safeguarding
our national independence,
and freedom.
New post-election Trumpian poem
Composed in Tiny Beaches,
Georgian Bay, Southcentral, Ontario
Monday, February 3, 2025
“Why Am I Me?”
Ernest “Papa” Hemingway was my favorite
writer, until I read John Hoyer Updike;
his lyrical prose made Heminway’s feel
wanting,
and I never read him the same way
again.
But it was more, so much more that pulled
me into the inimitable genius of Updike’s
writing;
and when it dawned on me that he ferreted
out
the sacred way of life in the “beautiful
mundane”
of every one of his 140 stories
published in the New
Yorker,
and the rest elsewhere, exploring family,
marriage, infidelity, mortality, faith,
and every little
experience, however mundane, that opened
up
the sacred way of life that brought him
a little closer
to the answer he was looking for, my heart
went
out to him; but my heart also cried for
him
when he realized that his talent was insufficient
to mine the spiritual gold that he needed
to answer
the crucial question of his life, “Why
am I me?”
And John Hoyer Updike, “America’s most
distinguished
man of letters” and my favorite writer,
died 85%
satisfied in his literary accomplishments,
but spiritually unrequited.
Composed in Tiny Beaches,
Georgian Bay, Southcentral, Ontario
Wednesday, January 29, 2025
The
Stupidity of Trump Deniers
We
are as real in our inauthentic self
as
we are false in our authentic self, the two
selves
co-exist for our becoming; and when
either
self is threatened—by the facts, and/or
the
sound logic of common sense—we stand
in
defense of who we are, or who we are not;
that’s
the mystery of cognitive dissonance
that
plagues all the Trump deniers who, despite
the
sound policies that Trump executed on Day
One
at the Oval Office, like shutting down
the
southern border and rounding up illegal
criminal
migrants and shipping them back home,
Trump
deniers can’t help themselves and refuse
to
give President Donald J. Trump any credit
for
his mandate to make America great again;
that’s
cognitive dissonance, and not only stupid,
but
very dangerous to the democratic system
that
the 47th President of the United States
was
called by his nation to preserve.
New
post-election Trumpian poem
Composed
in Tiny Beaches,
Georgian
Bay, Southcentral, Ontario
Thursday,
January 30, 2025
