Rubber ducky
Is having a laugh,
****** led his
People down
The wrong path.
History has a habit
Of repeating itself
No more wealth
No more health.
When the the
Rubber duck
Can’t have his day
We all know what
Happened down
capitol way.
Best of luck to the people
Who voted in the duck.
Always be careful
History books lie
Open the wrong pages
People die
God bless America.

Yay!! There’s snow on Science Hill.
Finally - snow, I love it. Cold, I love it.

Science says men evolved from apes.
Maybe I evolved from polar bears
or those abominable snow people
—yeti—that no one can photograph.

You can’t just reject that outright,
say the odds are minuscule,
just because it’s new and edgy.
I mean, where’s your science—
your unbiased, clinical perspective?

We could end up in the National Geographic.
This kind of story is very much their aesthetic.
I can provide lots of material—I have baby photos
and I’m not uncomfortable about the pressure.

Maybe it’s time to put your voice out there.
The world always needs the comfort of new voices.
You could influence social media—everyone wants THAT.
This is a buffalo, a skibidi, blessing in disguise.
.
.
Songs for this:
Young And Dumb by The Bird and the Bee
Unlike me by Kate Havnevik

Winter. Frozen — not I, but my mind.
My soul, like embers, once gave me its heat.
Shards of dark thoughts in my head I find,
But to rise to Fury, I dare not compete.

Fury will warm — not a moan, but a roar,
A final cry to shake the earth’s core,
In a world where deceit is the common lore,
A world so wretched, wild, and poor.


In Russian:

Зима в душе и уме

Зима. Замёрз. Не я, а ум.
Душа как угли — грелся ею.
В уме ошмётки тяжких дум —
Подняться к Яри я не смею.

Согреет Ярость. Не мычать,
А изойтись последним криком
В мирке, обычаем где лгать, —
В мирке убогом, страшном, диком.

Hour by hour, it grows grimmer
For the dwindling choir's shimmer:
LIES IN PROSE devour the throng—
Idiots applaud, forgetting song.

Few are left who stand unshaken,
So the tune is little taken.
Worse to come, the path is dire—
The world’s gone mad, bereft of fire.


In Russian:

Час от часу всё не легче
Поредевшей стайке певчей:
ПРОЗА ЛЖИ всё поглотила —
Рукоплещут ей дебилы.

Не дебилов очень мало,
Так что песнь почти пропала.
Дальше будет только хуже —
Мир на голову не дюжий.

Accused of six string
love songs
mere melodies by the way
My fingers bleed just for you
The one string solos soar fretlessly up the neck of love
The lies of falsetto are bassless

At one time
I would scour the skies
looking for the moon, the stars
and some odd galaxy

But now, distant as I am
And wont to hide
I wonder if they scour the earth
And look for me

A bandit’s just a brute at best.
A politician, sharp and sly,
Is like a purulent abscess,
Destroying roots as others die.

A fool alone could place their trust
In tyrants posing as the wise,
Who open doors to lies unjust,
And welcome butchers in disguise.


In Russian:

Сравнение двух видов преступности

Бандит — обычный недоумок.
Страшней политик — он умней:
Преступности даёт он в сумме
Гораздо больше, гробя пней.

Лишь пень убогий может верить
Фашистам в облике вождей,
Их лжи открывши настежь двери,
Впуская позже палачей.