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Look at the dancing dragon
He puts on quite a show
He lifts up high into the air
As the wind begins to blow.
A wind of change is whipping
Round & round it goes
As it becomes a hurricane
Or an EF5 tor-na-do.

China's at the wall, my friend.
To scale like a flood
Question why their banners fly
Red as flowing blood.
Red, with pretty little stars
A fallen angel brood
They will come a-marchin'
We'll be DONE for GOOD.

Ever wonder why, ye fools
They buy up to the south?
You don't hear THAT on the news
But it is TRUE, by oath!
The dragon's near. Yep. It's HERE.
WE ARE IN IT'S MOUTH.

They don't NEED to buy US.
Think not? You'll find you're WRONG.
They have surely purchased us
And did so for a song.
They don't NEED to fight a war...
It already could be WON.
The Chinese have not marched without
They've conquered from WITHIN.

What will happen to U.S.
Only God can tell.
But the Red Chinese are waiting...

AT THE GATES OF HELL.

SoulSurvivor
Catherine Jarvis
11/8/2020
 Nov 2020 Poetic T
Sally A Bayan
Any time of day,
the breathtaking colors
of the sky make me sigh,
however ecstatic, or unpleasant
life may be...whatever goes on down
here, she is up there...ever-present,
like a parent...i may be infinitesimal,
yet, i'm never lost in her
immeasurable span of attention.

the sky is a part of me,
and i, of her,
her colors affect my daily decisions,
gray with rains tell me to change plans,
on sunny days, chores are smooth-sailing.
at night, its dome of dark blue, graced
by the moon and stars in many shapes,
makes me recall some immortal tales.

i squint, looking at her vast spaces
as if i'm roaming upon a sunny meadow,
as i go back to my days of triumphs,
my failures...especially
my best moments.

i was born under this glorious firmament,  
she saw my first steps,
and all the firsts in my life,
she'll be watching, until her clouds
start bringing rain upon
my withered ground.



Sally

© Rosalia Rosario A. Bayan
September 2019
(Posted October 26, 2020)
 Aug 2020 Poetic T
blackbiird

Even a tortured soul
needs a place to cry.
I’m so glad
That you’re my
place.

 Jul 2020 Poetic T
Vanessa Gatley
He was the smoke
After I started the fire
And his smoke took forever
To go away his sense
Of touch lingered on for
Over a month
Wishing this smoke evaporated
The only way
to create Oneself
is to try new things,
for One never knows
what it is that may
become, some day,
a part of who One is.

One will never know
what works, nor,
most importantly, why,
unless One is willing
to experiment honestly
and venture readily
into unfamiliar territory.

Though,
it is not the act of delving into the unknown that's difficult,
it is coming back with something of value
to either yourself or those around you
or, ideally, both,
without getting lost in the process.

Aye, there's the rub.
Written on napkins at work,
with a calligraphy pen,
nonetheless.
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