You've read my rant from yesterday
About those Christmas Letters
But one thing just disturbs me
Those Ugly Christmas Sweaters!!!

You know the ones we love to hate
They're  all so scratchy and they itch
You can barely get the **** thing on
And to remove it...it's a *****!!

Pictures of things Christmassy
Like a reindeer all in red
Mine looks like an emaciated cow
with a candelabra on his head

Snowflakes, trees and Norway Spruce
and colours....oh my lord
They can take them back to Norway
and throw them in the fjord!!!

My nan made one for me one year
It was silver with some blue
Turns out she used old brillo pads
Because she liked the soapy hue

They itch and scratch and don't fit right
They are a cancer to my eyes
I had one in green and red
With one sleeve down past my thighs

I thought it was a jumpsuit
The kind the paratroopers wear
The pattern pages stuck together
And that sleeve....went down to there!!!

We all have one hidden away
In a box, 'neath lock and key
In a place so nicely hidden
One we've had since we were three

We never plan to wear one more
We all know that we once  did
but, if we had to wear one out
We're gonna buy one for our kids!!!

If you need to get assistance
go to uglysweaters dot o- r- g
They can help you with your wardrobe
Tell them you heard of them from me.

In Battalion,
Misery is served in a thousand ways.

Misery is served in buckets of rain
and hours of wind.
Unyielding, soul-******* cold and wet.
Porous jungle boots that invite the frigid water in and soften your feet for a relentless 30 mile march.

Misery is served in a stifling aircraft flying Nap of the Earth.
A nauseating rollercoaster ride that never fails to elicit
chain reaction vomiting from the paratroopers rigged to jump.

Misery is served at pool PT
When your arms and legs feel like lead
and drowning is a better alternative
than the aquatic torture that you’re enduring.

Misery is served during blistering Company runs
led by the Commander
who was a college decathlete.
Runs where the strongest of us
pulled aside, emptied our stomachs,
and rejoined the formation.

Misery is served by no warning alerts
separating families and lovers
for indefinite periods,
sometimes forever.

Misery is served by the Spec 4 Mafia
Unleashing Hell on new Rangers
testing their threshold for ****.

Misery is served by road marches, prickly heat,
Black Palm, and sawgrass. It’s served by desert heat,
Arctic cold, and the stench of the world’s worst places.

Misery is served by the loss of brothers in war and training,
gone too soon to join the Great Ranger in the Sky.

Through it all, misery hardened my body and strengthened my soul.
It made me a warrior and ushered me into a Brotherhood that will be with me until we all sit at the great table in Valhalla.

So on this Veteran’s Day
Embrace the ****
Endure the pain
Invite the Misery
For that’s what makes us
Men amongst Men

Rangers Lead The Way.

The Pathfinders
Were highly skilled in  land navigation
And map signals

They marked the right drop zones
With beacons and electronic signals

Three major drop zones

Planes hit by anti-aircraft fire

Some paratroopers hit the water and drowned in the river
The ones that landed had to make their way to the railroad

Thank you for your courage

Paratroopers free fall,
'chutes coiled and caught in a grease ball afro curl
reaching down perplexed ****** frames.
Diligent chortling mimes trapped in handmade indecision cages, tapping a telling tune of tired games played day after day.
A right brained boy with a head full of clout
miscommunication with a leftist expat from the north
to the south.
Jostled connections send out fizzling sentences
through blown speakers and an overheated circuit -
Bored of the excuses whispers the nameless
without a reason there isn't a purpose.
Shoot an accusing glare past Father Time
overlooking treasonous discouraging crimes
Open those whale blubber caked eyes
to the other side.
It's not what this has done to you
but what this has done to us.
The hitchhiker gave up, traded his thumb for a seat on the bus.
Never was he lost, but given more than one chance.
He, no, she, no we
were thrown away with his walking stick and his waterproof nap sack.
Will we cross this road again?
And pick up from where we began?
Or never turn back?
Always was he lost, but given one too many of a chance
But was it worth it?
Upholding the "right and proper" stance?

Tyres and fires burning
circles of rubber
Rolled down  black tongued roads
Heading to  city centre
Where  others meet
To greet the mighty ruler
With sword and soldiers dressed
In fibreglass shields, green helmets
truncheons with spikes backed water cannons
snipers on rooftops searching for vipers
to drill bullet holes

The tyres rolled in and rounded in a circle
Cutting off escape routes and
Dividing believers and  non-believers
Piled high, pulled tight with pitchfork  patience

The leaders orders more tyres.
Anything from cars, buses and bicycles
that could hold up the  chains of freedom.
Last desperate attempt - not to escape but die
In the ring of fire -soon lit
Underneath the tyres
Which created bursting black flames and bluegrey smoke
Rising above the rants of leaders and shooters
and crackling. Sparks that dulled the day
And lit the night with sparklers of power.

The paratroopers soon retreated into barracks
and the rioters took hold of the city keys,
And over broken glass and burnt buildings
settled in for the long haul to freedom.

The pawns moved on the chess board
  knights moved in the night,
The queen was cornered
and checkmate came when the hollow president
flew  the palace with his coterie of
ear chewers and shoe polishers!

The tyres burned slowly
the fires  burned down slowly.
Freedom came at dawn on the 21 st day
when the rubber factory churned out again
many new models of tyres with tougher treads.

The circle begins again today.
Author Notes

The Revolution continues. All common day gadgets that could burn and blister the new agenda is rolled down the road into the city centre where the
protesters gather to set fire to ambitious policies, unpopular with the people.

The fires from tyres will rage all night and day.
© Marshall Gass. All rights reserved.

Kidnapped from the holy,
Anthony's poverty is dense,
black daisy Italian covered
in the shape of the gutter;

I was stolen away out of the saints
Anthony, poverty is weak grove dark
with the daisy of the Italian band,
covered in the shape of Paratroopers
from the foxes, the color from the glass,
and the color of a white rising
in the skin, and in the pillows,
feathery Cebele delivers medical
services and the other out of the
vessel, 1 to the beauty of the
magnesium. For with the voice
of 1 will add to all your praise.
1 have a great idea. Anger, sorrow,
and seminarians the cause of action
is in hand to motivational, Lori 57.02;
56, Russia, Russia, Belgium, Russia,
Russia, Britain, Great Britain, Uganda,
Pangasius' Russia "19 19" pairs,
Turkey's Ryeman, Kenya Kenya Kenya,
Kinshasa United States religion 60 years,
Christian Armstrong, Austria, 41 )
boulders, Kenya is not a small group.
John Heine, our organizational structure.
3 red - red, white, red, black and red
Russia, Russia, Montenegro? Russia,
Ireland, Australia, Uganda, English,
many teachers, the first black, white,
while in the United States in the years
1960 to 2000, is the largest changes
occurred in the United States, Armenia,
Austria, Ireland and Sierra Leone's Id.
This is a free man. Little by little
knowledge and a little time to builders,
many of the people have gone back
East Policy - Russia's good war. arch
great importance. It is the fight against
God. Stock Fakzio of abandoned
Company, Company articles women
write kbps jack spontaneously girl
Shuples head Bombe Bache message
soccer No, Michael, Michael Draft
mouth after Black; black research written
by George Diapers massage for Gypsies;
mother and Duffy Until spider Scallop,
Beginners drawing and painting; the good,
and through all and in the good there,
and the war between Russia. TTravel agency
vehicles that are very important to the wheat
of Angels who for many years that in the
blood was angelic. Jolise in the Lori is small
compared to the ******, a mighty ******,
a mighty ******, a mighty ******, a mighty
******, a mighty ******, a mighty ******,
a mighty ******, a mighty ******, a mighty
******, a mighty ******, a mighty ******
for the ******, a mighty ******, a mighty
******, a mighty ******, a mighty ******,
a mighty ******, a mighty ******, a mighty
******, a mighty ******, a mighty ******,
a mighty ******, a mighty ******,
a mighty ******, a mighty ****** new
mighty hunter before the Lord, [and] began
to be asked ... "****** ID. 1, in the evening
was a hunter, and quite large. 2, not capitalized:
subsp. 3, it is not capitalized, slang stupid ****.
******'s welcome or reject the truth.
Real inside white Skincare silent ******'s
blind draw ****** in the middle east, the
play of the year, many of medical products -
if they want to be good human beings, as
well as Russia. Integer moms, especially
plastic on the face of the young people, the
devil does not drink angel sherry; Sassiam
Sands of some rotational motion pregnancy,
poetry, a computer clock's homosexual tooth;
Sky, childhood, broke the unwritten light.
DRAWING search. Thomas John Clark team
a ******* jelly ankles write in the light of
the stars at night, the price of first-degree
Christmas Back goggle back in Whistler bid
***** will be back in the field kidnapped
from the holy glory Gearboxes Anthony's
Italian covered daisy black poverty F Figure
hanging from the ceiling by a *****; *****
the plotular witnesses are like parasites,
spray vacuum foam vacuum paratrooper
form of white feather features CEBELE's
***** skin and cold water of the color
of the Fox and skin of John's magnesia
leaf clover shamrock: 2; I remember
the beautiful girl in the city of the beautiful
and graceful,and seven hundred of gold
he earned 3 looks very bright and servants
that had knowledge of the times,
and the women are said. White blind draw
to remain silent whisper Healthy Skincare
plays the years, and many in the Middle
East Medical products - if they want to be
good human beings in Russia, and Russia
as well. In the latest of plastic on the face,
especially for young people, the messenger
of Satan to face a wall of sherry Sands
of Sassiam some rotational motion pregnancy,
poetry, a computer, homosexual, clock tooth
Sky, childhood, writing Oh shines more
brake system of system of system of the
system of system the system of the system.
Picture search. Roy Thomas, John Clark
team, a ******* jelly writer of the ankles
bound stars for light by night CHR is price
of the first degree

I see leaves from trees, winter wind just a blowing,
making an assualt like paratroopers on folks  lawns.
I hear the geese  gather up and form their formations,
quaking loudly that they are up and gone.
Morning rush to the work has to be coordinated,
that old truck needs time to warm up.
frost on the winshield, wind just a blowing,
time for one more coffee warm up.
Evening breeze brings the smell of wood stoves going,
holiday baking  and burning leaves from the yards.
Yes I do believe ... Winter is here!

all fallen disciples without
discipline

like a horse with a broken leg
the only thing I needed to complete my extension has third degree burns now

all dead paratroopers
like rag dolls
no longer fearing the earth

parachutes serve as hospital gowns
as they sway from their individual hanging trees

Bright pellucid morning
blue as icy aquamarine.

Fall nips the air
like a petulant cat.

It feels chilly
as a chance encounter
with a former lover
in a sunrise coffee shop.

The season spins
like an obstinate top.

Legions of lawn gnomes
don their long underwear.

The earth accepts this
glacial change, but
I will miss the warmth
of lilies and dandelions.

Still, this new  ambience
contains its own charms.

Trees spasm with delight
as vivid leaves waft like
inevitable paratroopers
to the retreating lawns.

Flowers hibernate
secure in the
inevitability
of resurrection.

It is a time to honor
common sense.

We know the snows
will blanket our
sleepy, gelid lives.

We know that
in time we will
wake to spring,
warmth and hope.

The world will turn
until we don't.

  ~mce

I spent the afternoon in the breezeway
watching the clouds tease the mountaintops
and here you come
wide-eyed, eager, kind
embodiment of youth.
you tell me stories of men in uniform
and what lies behind that shining facade
of smiling military men, all in a row.

He was tall, you say, all-american--and strong.
when he took her to bed, it was the day after
her husband was lost to fire and shrapnel.

Paratroopers, you say, are told one thing.
'Don't speak to civilians.'

You left me feeling queasy,
watching and wondering with suspicion
the blue and peace of the sky.

tears are flowing as I write
some pains never fade
stay the same as if it happened today
so let me try to get this just right

I was just 16 moved to florida
from growing up in northern virginia
no friends, young and wild and facing
a lovers betrayal which changed my heart

first person I met I’d walk to the bar
was a guy named Joe Martin
he was hitting on the girl i was with
I remember she was crying so he gave her a kiss

from that day on, him and I were best friends
hung out all the time I completely trusted him
he caught feelings love he’d say
those sure words would make me run away

he always talk about his brother Jack
family nickname for him was Nat
all the adventures they shared
his love for his brother was rare

over a year or maybe longer I forget
finally one day his brother visited
on leave from the marine’s set to deploy
didn’t think much either way of that boy

we all hung out in and out at the beach
once Jack came over and my mom looked at me
she said “he’s cute” what do you think
i said “you think so, hmm let me see

relationships of that kind were not for me
something Iran from and certainly didn’t seek
but my dear mother she planted that seed
and pretty quickly Jack was hitting on me

we were alone I drove him to the lake
a place where he’d swim he couldn’t get me in
this day he was quite bold wanting
to be with me right there and than

I was intrigued and told him if he wanted to date me
he’d have to do it right
put in the effort talk to his brother
make sure it’s alright

from that day on we were together
every day and every night
seemed like weeks maybe month
but back than felt like years

the day finally came for him to leave
Joe was in the driver’s seat of my 69 firebird
cherry red white top convertible
top was down i was in the back

than Jack came running out
duffle in hand kissed me and climbed in
I said to him “did you tell your mom goodbye”
he said “yes I did, why”, I said “did you tell her you love her”
he looked in my eyes, smiled and ran back inside

off to the greyhound bus station car full of kids
I swear that boy lip locked me I couldn’t catch my breath
he didn’t let go the entire trip
we said our goodbyes and waved as his bus left

deployed to Beirut Lebanon 1983
he wrote me every week
told me about what it was like there
and how he’d reup with his sergeant’s despair

encouraged my schooling said I’d do great
told me of the culture and the barracks and mates
how he was taught use infrared telescope
from the roof spot any mortar or any dangers

he wanted to re-enlist to save money for his future
he was proud to defend our country

than the worse news went round the world
on October 23, 1983, two truck bombs struck buildings in beirut, lebanon, housing American and French service members of the multinational force in lebanon (MNF), a military peacekeeping operation during the lebanese civil war. the attack killed 307 people: 241 u.s. and 58 french military personnel, six civilians, and two attackers.

disbelieving and it took at least a week
before they found his body
in the pile buried underneath
all of us hoping he’d be ok no relief

I was at my brother’s funeral in maryland
all the family was at my grandma’s after the service
when Jack’s mom called with the heart wrenching news
I thought for sure there’d be no way, that god would
take them both away

when I returned back home to florida
waiting for me in the mailbox
my last letter from Jack
that glimmer of hope of a mistake quickly passed

his last letter read:
‘did you hear the new rainbow album
bent out of shape with
ritchie blackmore and ronnie james dio”?
“don’t you worry about me
telling me to be in right place at the wrong time
hell “I’m trying to be in the wrong place at the right time”

Love,
Nat

Jack was 22 I was 18
young private first class marine
died as a peacekeeper, no weapons no defense
the list of the rules first three were intense

until October 23, 1983, there were ten guidelines issued for each u.s. marine member of the MNF:

the perimeter guards at the u.s. marine headquarters on the sunday morning of October 23, 1983, were in full compliance with rules 1–3 and were unable to shoot fast enough to disable or stop the bombers.

1. when on post, mobile or foot patrol, keep loaded magazine in weapon, bolt closed, weapon on safe, no round in the chamber.
2. do not chamber a round unless instructed to do so by a commissioned officer unless you must act in immediate self-defense where deadly force is authorized.
3. keep ammo for crew-served weapons readily available but not loaded in the weapon. weapons will be on safe at all times.
4. call local forces to assist in self-defense effort. notify headquarters.
5. use only minimum degree of force to accomplish any mission.
6. stop the use of force when it is no longer needed to accomplish the mission.
7. if you receive effective hostile fire, direct your fire at the source. if possible, use friendly snipers.
8. respect civilian property; do not attack it unless absolutely necessary to protect friendly forces.
9. protect innocent civilians from harm.
10. respect and protect recognized medical agencies such as red cross, red crescent, etc.

the first suicide bomber detonated a truck bomb at the building serving as a barracks for the 1st battalion 8th marines (battalion landing team – blt 1/8) of the 2nd marine division, killing 220 marines, 18 sailors and 3 soldiers, making this incident the deadliest single-day death toll for the united states marine corps since the battle of iwo jima in world war ii, the deadliest single-day death toll for the united states armed forces since the first day of the tet offensive in the vietnam war, the deadliest terrorist attack on american citizens in general prior to the september 11 attacks, and the deadliest terrorist attack on american citizens overseas. the explosives used were later estimated to be equivalent to as much as 9, 500 kg (21, 000 pounds) of tnt.

minutes later, a second suicide bomber struck the nine-story drakkar building, a few kilometers away, where the french contingent was stationed; 55 paratroopers from the 1st parachute chasseur regiment and three paratroopers of the 9th parachute chasseur regiment were killed and 15 injured. it was the single worst french military loss since the end of the algerian war.the wife and four children of a lebanese janitor at the french building were also killed, and more than twenty other lebanese civilians were injured.

our lives forever changed that day

families, our country, our nation, blood stained.
innocent men and women and children die for us
every single second of every single day


In honor of all of them and

Private First class Jack L. Martin (1961-1983)
there’s a special place in heaven for such angels as these!

below is our song, rainbow “street of dreams”
released 1983 (bent out of shape)
I sometimes wonder what would or could of been
sure did love that Nat Martin!
my purpose was profound

Summon the Strategic Air Command
The world could use more rock bands
Load the B-52's with Ludwig drum sets
and Marshall stacks , tie a twelve string
around the paratroopers backs
Saturate the zone with music books , score pads
and stands
Run missions non-stop , send commandos behind
operational lines bearing SG's and Les Pauls
Microphone stands and PA's , Roland keyboards
on every corner , continue dropping supplies till the world comes
to order* ..

The leaves have fallen.
Once brave soldiers
vital and firm
now old paratroopers
wrinkled with
the expectation of
winters rough war.
One by one
these daughters
And sons
fall to the Earth
to die.
The tree stands naked,
until winter’s war is over
and green life is restored

The 'lantern flies' were actually the paratroopers of war
descending onto the ground I was sworn to protect
Jesus laughed out loud , hot boxed a final drag off a Pall
Mall cigarette , flicked it into a minefield where it exploded
in every direction
I fired at the Moon from every position
Begged the night to come to an end
Woke up in a room destroyed , fired rounds
into blackness till the weapon jammed , patrolled
my field of fire from a window till the Sun kicked in*....

A joint operation was conducted this evening by French Paratroopers , Mexican Military Police and Columbian Anti-Terrorist Units on an unspecified target near the Mexican/U.S. border .. It is believed that the strike was an attempt to free refugees held captive by the U.S. Border Patrol ..This is breaking news !

TNT Equivalent of "Ideas"

A bullet’s blind, but "ideas"
Strike with force and sharp precision.
Now enslaved are all, defeated,
By a horde of blind submission.

For generations, we've been taught
Foolish lies to keep us caught,
Torn away from what the Soul
Whispers, trying to keep us whole.

But for madmen, "thoughts" bring healing—
Madness stronger, more appealing.
Floods of nonsense drown the wise;
Trust the LIARS—you’re despised.

Hear your Soul and doubt the preaching,
See how Evil keeps repeating.
In those "truths" its cycle shows—
And you’ll know their worth is close to zero.



---------------------



Olympics in London

CowID agenda—
It must be displayed!
The same old "defenders"
Work hard, undismayed.

Their duty? To warn us,
To spread it beforehand,
No riddles to warn us,
No twists—just a plain hand.

The hag, grim and clever,
Declared with no shame:
"A new age—forever...
The drama's endgame!"



---------------------



To Fall or Not to Fall?

To survive, to play it right—
Fall to Hell, embrace the night.
Better yet—just chase the throne,
Serve the SHADOWS, not your own.

Fade away—or dare to shine,
Speak your soul, let wisdom climb!



---------------------



A World Distorted by False Science

A twisted world, a broken view—
False "science" makes it seem so true.
Its goal? To raise a mindless fool,
And if you trust—you're just a tool.

They feed you lies, erase the Soul,
Blind the world—divide, control.
Their scholars bow to those who rule,
Deceitful servants—cunning, cruel.

See the beasts, their minds confined,
Like Pavlov’s cattle, trapped, resigned.
Faith in falsehood shapes their fate—
Marching dumb to science fake.

Truth is gone—who needs the proof?
Dogma reigns—no need for truth.
Reason lost, they heed the call—
Two-legged beasts devour it all.



---------------------



Pskov Paratroopers in Ukraine, 2014

Pskov’s troops went rolling in,
Crossed the line in wool and tin.
"Just a break," they said—"Alright,
What a perfect place to fight!"

Shooting’s fun—until you fall,
Bullets don’t ask names at all.
"Leaders" lie with all their might,
Turn the TV—see the sight:

"Nazis here, a threat so grand!"
Pure deceit—a sleight of hand.
Thus were born the brainwashed horde,
Slaves to lies, to "Z" adorned.



---------------------



Petro Poroshenko

Poroshenko, years ahead,
Was a creep—enough was said.
Lies and filth—his heart's delight,
And the mob just cheered him bright.

Mob or people? What's the score?
When they vote a boxer—mob.
Trash floats higher—rules the floor,
Freedom? Never. Just a fob.

Yet that trash is pre-arranged
Not by crowds, but those unseen.
From the lineup, fools deranged
Choose the liar they call king.



---------------------



Tokyo Olympics

Games postponed, yet here they stand,
Masked-up "athletes" on demand.
Even Orwell, sharp and keen,
Never guessed this wild scene.

CowID rules—absurd, extreme,
Darker than a nightmare’s dream.
Minds are buried, reason’s gone,
Sheep-lined world—marching on.



---------------------



Sleep Deprivation Kills

Lack of sleep is worse than pain,
Drains your mind with each new strain.
Step by step, as strength declines,
Dreams will fade, lost to time.

Rest enough—don’t push too hard,
Creativity’s a spark
Only lit when you’re renewed,
Bringing change with power true.



---------------------



The Allegory of Show Jumping

A horse of grace, a fool astride,
Yet for the crowd, he’s praised with pride.
But time will come—just wait and see,
He’ll take the fall—inevitably.

The world’s a course, absurd and grim,
Its folly neither new nor dim.
Riders hollow, cold as stone—
The BEASTS rejoice—they're on the throne.



---------------------



A Garden for Firewood

"The homeland’s smoke is sweet and bright!"
— A. Griboedov

Souls run empty, cold inside—
Bread and circuses provide.
All they see is dull and grim,
Like the stench of choking brim.

Smoke, like poison in the air,
Burns the heart beyond repair.
"Bow to madness, bear it all!"
Fools are taught since they are small.

Shun the "saplings"—grow alone,
Blossom in the wild, unknown.
Planted there to fuel the flame,
They will burn—to ash, to shame.

Soon the sun will set it right,
Fire rising, smoke in flight.
Let it smother—let them choke,
Time to think—forget the smoke!



---------------------



With Every Year

With every year, the task grows tough,
To clear the lies, to call their bluff.
As ignorance spreads, it grows more vile,
And beasts grow bolder, worse in style,

Driving the world to depths below—
The lies, the fools, they steal the show.



---------------------



To Drag and Keep

Drag them down, don’t let them rise,
Pull again, with bitter lies.
To deceive, without a care—
That’s the mark of those in power’s snare.



---------------------



Rest for Body, Rest for Mind

Rest the body, rest the mind,
Honor Nature, you will find
That when you push yourself too hard,
Your goals will fade, your strength will guard.



---------------------



The **** of Real Shadow Power

"Free press" is silenced, all of it tight,
In the CowID era, spreading false light.
Politicians-clowns — no power to wield,
Just **** beneath, with nothing to yield.



---------------------



The Corrupt "Subculture"

Editors, chief,
Ministry's belief—
All are for sale,
A twisted tale.
In Evil's wheel,
When skins reveal.



---------------------



The End of the World

We draw the line:
The world’s decline,
And all will fall into the flame,
For two-thirds are blind to shame.
Soullessness spread like a disease—
And we, in truth, are none but fleas.



---------------------



Propaganda

Stop! It's trash—
Beasts' loud clash!
That’s the media,
Believe it? Fool, you are.



---------------------



Zombie Warriors

The macho rides
Towards his foe.
Who’s the enemy?
The media will show!



---------------------



Versification

The opening line must strike with might—
Then all the verse will burn so bright.
Or at the least, stay true, sincere—
Without that fire, none will hear.



---------------------



News of the Coming Digital Chaos—Or Rather, a Camp

Honor or bread—
Soon the test.
Hear the news:
World's a mess.



---------------------



Fatigue

Drained out—
No doubt,
Fire’s out.
Wait till
Strength returns,
Then fight and burn—
If you’ve got will.



---------------------



"Sages"

These "yard-born sages," wise and grand,
Think like sheep—don’t understand.
Led on leashes, blind, they go,
Slaughter-bound by those they know.



---------------------



Two Paths

"Life’s no field to simply cross."
— Old proverb

Crossing life like field so wide?
Just jump in place—enjoy the ride.
Dare to walk beyond, go far?
The mob will call you a fool, bizarre.



---------------------



Changes

What comes next?
It’s hard to tell...
In plain words—
A fool as well.



---------------------



Fencing

A dulled-off blade, yet swift it flies.
The first to strike—the first who's right.
As for the one who bravely dies?
Forgotten soon by cautious might.



--- Total 25 poems. ---