Feeling Patriotic

Number one in the world!  Woohoo, that's right!
Canada ranks first for best quality of life!
And it's not our first time at taking the gold.
We've claimed that spot now 2 years in a row.
Stable, secure, and breathable air
are some of the accolades cited there
in the paper that ranked our quality best
and telling us why we edged out the rest.
Health, education and safety held sway
in affecting life quality, many would say
and I would agree.  The authors did too.
And now we can celebrate!  A day early too!
As tomorrow our national birthday arrives
with one more reason can hold our heads high
when we salute our country with pride.
So maybe I'm early, but what the hey....
I wish everyone, "Happy Canada Day!"

Article about rankings

Whitney Houston's 2019 tour!

On a topic I wrote on just a day before,
I might wanna to say just a little bit more
and if you don't find it too much of a bore
I'll tell you about the Whitney Houston tour.
They announced it a month and a week ago
(with a publishing deal, don't you know).
"The Greatest Love if All" will return to the stage
via state-of-the-art holograms made,
and backed by living musicians as well
and back-up singers, 'cause....what the hell?
The most awarded woman of humanity
is now breaking new ground, posthumously.
I'm not sure how to feel....her estate runs the show.
And they're not fooling anyone, we all have to know.
She's a talent for certain, to remember her, rocks!
But in this way?  Maybe it's got
a certain validity, since there is no
alternative - no where else you could go
to see her perform, save through video.
But the publishing deal, I mentioned before
might be the way they leave open the door
to making a musical, album, or play
"new Whitney now...not seen 'fore today!"
It might be valid, legal and sly.
But it doesn't sit well.....and I'm not sure why.
Where would it stop?   Who all can we make?
Which ones are real and which ones are fake?
And if it were fake, would it matter still
so long as it's a reasonable fa-si-mill (?)
Authenicity might go down the drain
and not have the value it still has today.
But maybe I'm wrong, and it'll be great.
Her family must think so anyway.
So let's see what happens...and enjoy the ride!
It's just getting started.....let's see if it flies!

Marvin Gaye and Jesus Boxing on the Moon

"Marvin Gaye and Jesus Boxing on the Moon!"
coming to you live on Youtube soon
via deep fake hologram, to entertain
the insatiable masses and their idling brains.
Preston, Jackson, (with no say left)
have greeted live audiences well after death.
You know Amy Winehouse is going on tour?
In 2019!  I'm not kidding!  For sure!
It started at Coachella, with Tupac Shakar.
but a worldwide tour takes it way too far!
The dead get a boost with a new career
they're been gone awhile, but "poof" now they're here!
"Why should biology get in the way
of making a buck?" some might say.
Well I think it's bonkers and lacking in taste
It's like nostalgia on 'roids!  Of our time, a waste.
Not that I'm Luddite - no way for sure!
I just prefer the potent allure
of the real and authentic.  The here and the now.
That's how it I feel these days, anyhow.
So the tech ressurecting celebrities gone
is a bus I'd prefer to never get on.

Thanks mom. Thinking of you.

Hey lovely people, g'mornin' I say!
A throwback time is coming your way
And coming to you on the traditional day.
This is back as I go, about as far as I can...
the first pic of me, out and on dry land

and that is my mom, (probably no surprize there)
holding me before I'm even aware
how lucky I was, that she was a mom
who treating me nicely, unlike some.
It was 9 years ago this month since she left
but always this photo I'll never forget
the peacefully glowing transcendent smile
that luckily commonly greeted my eyes
couldn't help molding the way I became.
My certainty of her concern never changed.
And that was a comfort both large and small
that I don't take for granted....not at all.
Thanks mom!  Thinking of you.

My new hero on the Women's Soccer Team

U.S. Women's Soccer captain Megan Rapinoe
Is newly in the running for my de-jour hero.
A reporter from the "Eight by "Eight, a soccer magazine,
Asked her, if the world cup was captured by her team,
And if she got an invite to the White House, when it came
She would reject it outright, and her answer was profane:
"No, I'm not going to the fucking White House" she was heard
as saying in reply (and I'm quoting, word for word).
Her obvious rejection, was not what I liked best,
As that decision is a common one these days, because the rest
Of the planet (save the middle of the map),
Sees the tit for what it is...a tit...and that is that.
A boob who's only purpose seems to be to suck himself,
And praise himself repeatedly, for there is no-one else
Buffoon enough to praise their clear amorality
As often and as grossly unconvincingly, as he.
The vomitrocious nature of what's happen below
Is sickening to think about, and hear about, I know.
I try to turn it off, close the screen or close my eyes
But the lunacy returns again, no matter hard I try
to change the topic in my head, and then I wonder why
new border camps for immigrants do now exist today
in a country who's inhabitants came mostly from away?
No, the best part of this tale, for me, was when she swore.
So refreshingly contrasting, to what we've seen before.
When reporters eat a littany of lies, thick and dense,
we don't hear the called-for ridicule, just silence.
The protocol of press pools and briefings on TV
expect a kind decorum, so what we never see
is what their really thinking, only staring silently.
But take it to the street, and the jungle laws prevail.
I assure you those lies, if told elsewhere, would fail
in the most obvious and laughably embarrassing way
that they would not be told again (or less so anyway).
So down with the politeness that they never have returned!
If you know a lie's a lie, then say so and they'll learn
that such a thing will not be met with silence (and assent
as interpreted by some, who mightn't even know it yet).
So way to go, Rapinoe!  I hope you make it far!
Your flipping bird to idiot supreme, has won my heart!

Alexa - my daughter

Pitter patter up and down the stairs my daughter goes
And takes an item with her every time, so she might know
What such a thing is called, as she asks her mom again
And twenty times after that...and this is the new trend.
She has to have a label for each thing she holds in hand.
The language that she learns in ways that she best understands.
She's in a world we do not know, experientially.
The patterns that her mind portrays are things we cannot see.
"Autistic" is the word we have, but one thing it is not,
but a spectrum of experience that "normals" haven't got.
She scores behind on many tests of children standardized
But shows talent in many ways not easy to define.
She can't create yet sentences that flow effortlessly
But she seems to know your emotional state, when you she cannot see.
It's difficult for her to stop a temper on the rise
but everyday we're witness to her incandescent smile.
She's not the best at building blocks or following a drill
But her curiosity is never quenchable
Voraciously she reads a lot, as she had taught herself
not the way that I had learned, but by memory and stealth.
Now I'm always grateful, more than ever so before
that I've got a daughter so easy to adore.
For some, what might be punishment,
for me, feels like reward.
Though deserving I am not, that I know for sure.
Nonetheless I'm grateful for the role I have to play
as a guiding hand to a beautiful soul, as she finds her way
in a world that accepts her better than any world before today.

Day 3

Monday.
yuck.
Monday
suck.
my oh my oh my.
There's better ways to count the days, but I don't think I'll try.
I wonder if the week will bring chaos and dismay?
Or maybe crazy fortunes will be tumbling my way?
Or maybe something in-between the precious and mundane,
Just like all the weeks before.  Some things never change.
But now I think this week turn out better than before.
Only as a shaft of sunlight shines now through my door.
The rain that soaked for 7 days now hastily retreats
But not for long, my patawan, again well wet our feet
through the puddles and the damp and the mist of Junely rains
And before we've time to dry our hands, it all will come again.
I did what I should not have done....looked at the reports.
And my mood once stable, now to sourness resorts.
But I jest, and kid you now, so fragile I not be
that my mind and moods so affected by meteorology.
I'm luck in 100,000 ways,
and this again is one.
I don't need to go outside, to participate in fun.
But now my wife's awake, and with her computer I am done!
Happy Monday!

Goodmorning fellow babies!
How are you now?
I'm attempting new habits that I hope you'll allow
this first-thing-I-wake-and-play the poetry game
with only one player (I guess that hasn't changed).
Even if I have nothing special to say
I'll say the mundane, but in a special way.
Because, why not?  These words are free.
Both for me to write and for you to see.
It's beats vegetating on nothing at all,
or reading the news, and then feeling appaulled
There's only adolescent insults these days
that taint the headlines in cyclical ways
dumbing everyone down back to middle school -
a forced awareness of humorless fool.
Why hear a word?  What good can it do?
What can you learn?  What does it prove?
I'd rather meander aimless and wide
and flush every instance of ego and pride
then try to keep up with insanity-land
that's infected so many, I don't understand.
So thanks for at least being ear to my pain.
As it's not just mine.  You suffer the same.
As does the world.....aware of it or not.
As I'm sure you'll agree.......it's getter .....just a wee bit......
hot.

The first day of summer!

The first day of summer went and came
and all else seems to be much the same
but now I realize at very long last
that I haven't blogged here since way in the past
So finally I'm making an effort again
to do what I did, and then do it again
a habit to form, I suppose ain't that hard
as long as you start with one foot in the yard (?)
Ok, I'll admit, my words are a bit rusty
so forgive me if this first poem is dusty.
It's only detritis my brain brushes off
as I reaquaint it with lyric prowess I've lost.
So happy first day of summer plus one
belating is also a way to have fun (?)
yeah, well Ok, I think I should run
before more writing like that gets done.
Thanks for your watching and reading and eyes,
your boredom a condition that I empathize
And partly the reason, the what and the why
I make silly rhymes to distract our eyes
from the blubbering buffoonish nonsense south
So I write these words instead of running my mouth
And if you can relate, and I think we agree
I'm choosing to exist more happily
by pretending the nonsense just isn't real
were all learned from the best, these ideas to steal
if you don't like reality, deny it exists.
no one will notice....just like my fist
through a newscreen flies
How in the world are we stuck with this guy?
He's an idiot man-child shit display
that never lets reality get in the way
of the fiction continually sputtering out
from a mouth that humanity could do without.
The more it exhaust my sense of calm,
I want to scream at all those boobs.....ah the hell with it, I'm not even gonna try to rhyme this one.
Whoops, I got a little carried away,
But remember where we're at today
and many won't blame me, I hopefully say.
So that's where I stand, and that's where I land
in a place that is real.....not fantasy land.
Though I do sometimes visit, in a much different way
through songs and poems and vids these days.
So if I offend, then please step aside
But if I amuse, (I say without pride), thank you for reading......there's more inside!
(inside my future head?  translation-stay tuned)