• About PeterSIronwood

petersironwood

~ Finding, formulating and solving life's frustrations.

petersironwood

Monthly Archives: September 2024

The Mango Mussolini

30 Monday Sep 2024

Posted by petersironwood in America, poetry, politics

≈ 2 Comments

Tags

life, poem, poetry, politics, truth, USA

The Mango Musso knows a shorter cut!

Just pass it quickly on! Just pass it on! 

The Melon Felon knows a better way!

We need not trek and tote and slog along!

This longish path along the creek’s a pain!

Let’s head instead across the desert’s dunes!

It may look dry; and yet, it’s bound to rain!

He’ll tap his wand; transform to plum dessert!

We know it’s true! It can’t be lies! Oh, no!

Pass it on! He orchestrates the crowd!

He yells it very very very loud!

It must be therefore certainly true of course!

He acts so proud! He screams so loud of hate!

Inhale the toxic fumes of Agitate!

Cannot you see? The hate is clear as day!

He’s out to check and jail and then to slay!

Photo by cottonbro on Pexels.com

And once the drecks, and whacks and nerds are dead,

We just must lie and kill for Master’s sake.

It’s what he said! You see? It’s what he said!

And therefore must be good and new and true!

Photo by Anna Tarazevich on Pexels.com

It’s not my fault I lost my house!

It’s not my fault I lost my spouse!

It’s not my fault I broke my mouse!

It’s not my fault! I need to grouse!

Photo by Skitterphoto on Pexels.com

It can’t be Greeds who stole my gold!

How could they ever be that cold!

It must be folks from other lands!

Who eat our pets; chew rubber bands!

We’ll let Putin end the strife!

He and Felon are such friends!

They’re oh so smart and never would lie!

And ours is not to question why!

They never have to futz with friends!

“There is no truth; there’s only bends!”

And all is well! He tells us so!

Until—-

Photo by j.mt_photography on Pexels.com

Putin points out that he’s ten inches longer

And naturally that makes him oh so much stronger.

Photo by VisionPic .net on Pexels.com

And then at long last all that money we wasted

On H-bombs—It won’t be wasted any longer!

No. Instead, we’ll all get lambasted!

We get to be cooked like a turkey is basted!

The taste of death is all we tasted!

Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.com

The Melon Felon himself once said:

“What good are nukes if we can’t even use them?!

What good are people if I can’t make them dead?

Did I mention I have the world’s smartest head?”

No more migrants! No more pets!

No more people! Everything’s solved!

Civilization at last completely dissolved!

No more jets! No more bets!

(But who could blame you?

All you needed to draw 

Were five sequential spades

And you would have won that hand).

That little hand. Who plays a one man band!

He plays an accordion of the mind.

Makes promises just as solid as sand.

Don’t seek truth! You’ll never find!

Photo by Johannes Plenio on Pexels.com

He wants to choke and each light dim

Who isn’t him or progeny.

He wears religious cloak

And wraps the flag around him.

Photo by Michael Willinger on Pexels.com

Orange you glad now you didn’t face 

The truth about His Felonious Grace?

Just swallow these lies and you will see

The painful end of all humanity!

Original drawing by Pierce Morgan

————

Where does your Loyalty Lie?

My Cousin Bobby

The Update Problem

What about the Butter Dish?

The Ailing King of Agitate

The Truth Train

The First Ring of Empathy

Plans for US; some GRUsome

The Stopping Rule

Try the Truth

The Dance of Billions

Roar, Ocean, Roar! 

The Three Blind Mice

Stoned Soup

A Profound and Utter Failure

Absolute is not just a Vodka

Author Page on Amazon

Sunday Sonnet: The Joy

29 Sunday Sep 2024

Posted by petersironwood in nature, poetry, psychology

≈ 1 Comment

Tags

life, poem, poetry, truth

I see a romping child, girl or boy;

A racing horse, a bunny hopping free.

In animals, it seems each move paints joy.

When leaves spin dancing—whirling ecstasy. 

My springs are shot, my body rusts, and yet—

My spirit soars with every leap and swirl. 

My heart and mind and soul do not forget

The joy of runs, of walks, of laughing twirl.

Photo by Christina K on Pexels.com

The life of any one of us will end

Yet all around us is the evidence.

The dance of life will ever weave and bend.

Embrace another’s joy? It’s common sense!

Our life’s too short to play it safe and coy

Or limit to your self, the taste of joy!  

————————

Roar, Ocean, Roar

The Dance of Billions

The Forest

Comes the Dawn

The Bubble People

Take a Glance; Join the Dance

Ambition

The Tree of Life

How the Nightingale Learned to Sing

Good Morning!

Ah Wilderness!

You Gave me no Fangs

Wristwatch

The Joy of Juggling

The Most Serious Work

Maybe it Needs a New Starter

Imagine all the People…

The Jewels of November

You Must Remember This

Piano

Author Page on Amazon

Not Long The Daze

27 Friday Sep 2024

Posted by petersironwood in nature, poetry

≈ 1 Comment

Tags

life, poem, poetry, truth

Alive among your many dazzling days.

Before you rush away toward whiz-bang flash,

Accept around you beauty’s bursting blaze.

Because your body’s bones will fall to ash;

Because you’ll have no need for brash and cash;

Consider well your days upon this earth;

Consider filling most with love and mirth.

Decide if you are desolate, alone;

Contrariwise, consider that your birth

Developed yet another side of known. 

—————

How the Nightingale Learned to Sing

Dance of Billions

Roar, Ocean, Roar

Life Will Find a Way

Guernica

There Never Was a Civil War

The Crows and Me

They Lost the Word for War

The Pandemic Anti-Academic

The Ship of State

Author Page on Amazon

Those Wild Blue Eyes

26 Thursday Sep 2024

Posted by petersironwood in nature, poetry, Walkabout Diaries

≈ Leave a comment

Tags

life, love, nature, photography, poem, poetry, walkabout

Since first I spied those wild blue eyes,

I found this world a happier place;

Saw gratitude and hope as wise; 

Stepped off the endless track of lies.

Since first I spied those wide blue eyes

No longer ran alone my race.

I dance in every day: surprise!

I found the world: A happy place.

———————

The Dance of Billions

Roar, Ocean, Roar

The Walkabout Diaries: Levels of Beauty

The Walkabout Diaries: Natural Variation

The Walkabout Diaries: Symphony

The Walkabout Diaries: Bee Wise

The Walkabout Diaries: A Now Rose is a New Rose

The Walkabout Diaries: How Beautiful and Green

The Walkabout Diaries: Life Will Find a Way

The Walkabout Diaries: Lest We Forget

The Walkabout Diaries: The Life of the Party

The Walkabout Diaries: Friends

The Walkabout Diaries: Sunset

The Walkabout Diaries: Mind Walk

The Walkabout Diaries: Racism is Absurd

The Walkabout Diaries: A Walk in the Park

The Jewels of November

The Forest

Author Page on Amazon

A Bearded Frog

25 Wednesday Sep 2024

Posted by petersironwood in America, poetry, satire

≈ Leave a comment

Tags

Democracy, poem, poetry, politics, truth, USA

Photo by Salih Altuntas on Pexels.com

It’s Jay and Dee and Gree-Viance,

He lies and spies; an ugly dance.

(Yet, only men are granted pants).

He leers and leans and haps to chance:

A Couch he sees and makes advance. 

Alas, the Couch rejects his lance.

He’s horrified! A furtive glance.

As someone groks his deviance. 

Around him, wafts weird, an ambiance— 

As though he cannot stand his stance.

Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.com

 

It’s not surprising, don’t you see?

He always backs His Trumpery.

The Mellon Felon—Treachery

Depends on JD’s flattery,

He never claims a strategy;

He cannot think coherently. 

In one born rich, some fluency

In English seems a certainty.

His speech rewards raw cruelty. 

His lies have trained credulity. 

Photo by Jose Lorenzo on Pexels.com

The pair now head for failing big. 

And one, at least, we’ll throw in brig.

The other branded as a prig. 

The judges bought by Donnie zig

And zag a willy-nilly jig. 

They’ll claim election fraud and shrig

Exploding blood beneath a wig.

A movie squib’s not hard to rig.

Yet nought can hide the vicious pig. 

A jail will host his final gig.

At end of day, his act is old.

A story sad & too much told. 

The bluster huckster plays at bold. 

Yet all our people can’t be sold

A plan of hate and blame and scold. 

The crooks will all scatter; the tents will all fold.

The joy guides our future instead of dead gold. 

Economy grows and when kindness takes hold.

The caring and comfort will now start to mold

Society working where no-one’s left cold. 

——————-

Tools of Thought

A Pattern Language for Collaboration and Cooperation

The Story of Story

The Walkabout Diaries

Donnie wants a hamster 

The Myths of the Veritas

Fifteen Properties

Author Page on Amazon

They’re eating our dogs–NOT!

24 Tuesday Sep 2024

Posted by petersironwood in America, poetry

≈ Leave a comment

Tags

Democracy, life, poem, poetry, politics, USA

And, they’re eating our dogs!

And they’re eating our cats!

And they’re marrying hogs!

And they’re wearing their fleece!

And they’re eating our geese!

And they’re eating our rats!

My, oh, my, such a terrible shame!

They shouldn’t be able to cast their vote!

If their ancestors arrived by using a boat! 

If their ancestors came from some other place!

Not if they’re folks of some darker race! 

Or if they’re called by some novel new name! 

Only the people who look just like me!

Only the people who think just like me!

Only the people who eat what I eat!

Only the people who cheat as I cheat! 

Only the people who like what I like!

Only those folks who never will strike! 

Only the people who do what I do!

Only the people who dress as I do!

Only the people who love as I love!

Only the people who like a big shove! 

Only the people who throw and bat righty! 

Only the folks afraid of God Almighty! 

A country of one is all that I ask.

If we all hate together it’s a doable task. 

If we hide our eyes and derail our brain.

We won’t feel the witches terrible pain.

The world I want is so simple indeed. 

Described by the felon’s hate-filled screed. 

Dance of Billions

Life is a Dance

Math Class: Who are you?

My Cousin Bobby

The Three Blind Mice

Tools of Thought

The Orange Man

Stoned Soup

The Ailing King of Agitate

Author Page on Amazon

The Ship of State

17 Tuesday Sep 2024

Posted by petersironwood in America, fantasy, poetry

≈ 1 Comment

Tags

creative-writing, Democracy, fiction, poem, poetry, politics, story, truth, writing

Photo by Egor Kamelev on Pexels.com

The weirdly bearded long-tongued frog 

The monstrous orange two-faced hog:

To sea they went in pee-gold boat

So heavy lead it could not float. 

Photo by Asad Photo Maldives on Pexels.com

“Who shall we hate today, my Frog?”

“Let’s see ‘bout artists, I say, Mr. Hog.

Or tallish folks from Wichita 

Or working poor from Saginaw!” 

Photo by Rebecca Zaal on Pexels.com

“Let’s tell some lies; they’re dime a dozen.

They eat their babies and do their cousin!”

“Whatever you say, Mr. Melon the Felon.

No matter how nutty, I’m sure we can sell on.”

Photo by Lum3n on Pexels.com

The bearded frog and the orange-faced hog.

They happily planned their hatred when fog

Unnoticed it crept; surrounded their ark.

Then thrashing around them—a sharp-toothed shark! 

Photo by Pedro Figueras on Pexels.com

“Don’t worry weird frog, a battery’s near!

Jump out and place it right by its ear!”

“Okay, Mine Fooler, surely, I’ll do it.”

“I thank you slave, if lethal, I’ll sue it!” 

Photo by Ben Phillips on Pexels.com

The weirdly bearded long-tongued frog

Became the morsel saving the hog.

The pee-gold boat was nothing but sticks.

Hog screamed and flailed and kicked his kicks. 

Photo by JACK REDGATE on Pexels.com

But not for long was shark beside. 

The hog became just chum in tide.

And soon the fog was silent, calm.

It seemed to be the ocean’s balm. 

Photo by Ray Bilcliff on Pexels.com

But ‘neath the waves the shark felt sick. 

Such poisonous fare killed him quick.

His teeth fell out; his stomach churned.

Intestines burst—his gills all burned. 

Photo by Tom Fisk on Pexels.com

The poison greed of hog and frog

Destroyed all like mustard fog.

America woke from hypno-hate.

And all were saved from Nazi fate.

———————-

My Cousin Bobby

Essays on America: The Game

The Ailing King of Agitate

The Stopping Rule

The Update Problem

The Three Blind Mice

The Orange Man

Stoned Soup

Essays on America: Labelism

Essays on America: Wednesday

Listen to my Siren Song

Roar, Ocean, Roar

Dance of Billions

Author Page on Amazon

Sonnet: Choose the Joy

15 Sunday Sep 2024

Posted by petersironwood in America, poetry

≈ 1 Comment

Tags

Democracy, poem

The day is gray in every way; a cloud 

Begrudges sun and threatens rain. 

As though our emerald planet sighs aloud

Until the din can penetrate our brain. 

When sighing fails to make us see the light;

When floods and droughts and searing killing heat

Are not sufficient whispers in the night;

When leaves on Tree of Life begin to cheat; 

Photo by Lerkrat Tangsri on Pexels.com

When each begins to leech the sap of Life;

Puts greed ahead of life-forms large and small—   

This disconnection rots the Tree with strife. 

Disaster then, and Death will come to all. 

Photo by Oleg Magni on Pexels.com

It’s not too late to love the Tree Entire. 

Enlarge your family now 

It’s down to the wire.


Dance of Billions

Roar, Ocean, Roar

Absolute is not just a vodka

Math Class: Who are you?

My Cousin Bobby

Author Page on Amazon

Travels with Sadie 3: Gates, Doors, & Walls

07 Saturday Sep 2024

Posted by petersironwood in America, pets, politics

≈ 4 Comments

Tags

Democracy, life, politics, truth, USA

“Something there is that doesn’t love a wall.” 

So begins Robert Frost’s poem, The Mending Wall. 

I was thinking about gates, doors, and walls as I went walking with Sadie on a sunny Thursday morning. We typically walk along the sides of streets. I let her wander onto the edges, but not onto other people’s yards or very far down their driveways. Often there are gates, much like our own gate. If the gate is closed and isn’t too far from the road, I often let her walk up to the gate. The gates are there both to prevent us from entering someone else’s property and to signal us not enter the property. I could, if my life depending on it, scale many of the gates, but that’s clearly asking for trouble. The gate is meant to keep people out, not as a challenge to overcome. Sadie generally couldn’t get through the bars of the gates. Of course, a gate is no barrier at all to birds, rabbits, mice, rats, lizards, snakes, raccoons, butterflies, or bees.

 

A door seems to me to offer more security than does a gate. While a gate may prevent me from entering, it’s quite easy to see through or around most gates, to hear the noise from the other side and to smell what’s on the other side. It’s true that one may listen through a door but the sound is typically muffled. Loud music or yelling creeps through to the outside but a conversation normally stays private. 

A door also helps the inside stay warmer or cooler than the outside air. A gate has no such function. 

Among places dogs leave olfactory messages for each other, boundaries are high on the list. This includes hedges, curbs, and gates. Sadie “controls herself” well now, but when she was younger, she would often pee at the boundary of a social event. Specifically, when someone—especially someone new or someone she already liked but hadn’t seen for awhile, she’d pee. She also seems to understand what I mean when I say, “Sadie, we’re going for a ride in the car. You should go pee first and then we can get in the car.” I don’t think she “parses” the sentence and accesses the meanings of all the individual words. Nonetheless, she quickly pees and then goes over to get in the car. 

A wall is a kind of transition as well. A gate is much more permeable than a wall and a door may be opened or closed or ajar. Often walls, such as castle walls have one or more gates or doors. People on one side of a wall almost always want to get to the other side, at least occasionally. At the very least, they want to be able to move information and goods from inside to outside and vice versa. 

Why walls? The walls of a house keep you in a more easily controlled environment. A wall can provide a level of protection. That’s mainly what castle walls are for. Of course, they often fail as well. Invaders climb the walls or tear down the walls or burrow under the walls until the wall collapses. Of course, castles were also subject to sieges. Eventually, the defenders inside would run out of food. Primitive machines were constructed to hurl firebrands and large rocks in to wreak havoc and kill defenders. 

The Greeks were unable to defeat the Trojans by destroying their castle. Instead, they famously made a large wooden horse as a “tribute” to the courage and tenacity of the Trojans. Overjoyed that the long siege was over, they opened the gates and led in the giant wooden horse and began to celebrate. Once everyone was drunk or sleeping, the soldiers hidden inside the horse snuck out and opened the gates to the much larger Greek army waiting outside. 

Photo by Salih Altuntas on Pexels.com

Today’s technology is much more sophisticated of course, but walls, gates, and doors still exist. The defensive capabilities now include guided missiles, aircraft, submarines, and aircraft carriers as well as the threat of nuclear retaliation. During the so-called “Cold War” America and the USSR engaged in an “arms race” to develop the best weapons and more of them. Looking back on all the wasted energy and time on both sides, I think, “Imagine what could have been done if we had instead spent all that resource on preventing climate change, curing disease, and sponsoring science and education. 

Of course, it’s not an easy problem. One side in a standoff can only stand down unilaterally if they trust the other side. Meanwhile, none of the amazing and exorbitantly expensive weapons, walls, doors, and gates we’ve developed are worth anything at all if we accept the modern Trojan Horse.



Social media, the press, the television, and nearly half of the political candidates spew misinformation on a daily, even hourly basis. We’re locked in a political race and one of the two candidates for President is himself a Trojan Horse. Like the ancient Trojans, all our walls and armaments will be useless. 

The threat to America is, in many ways, worse than the threat to ancient Troy. The Trojan Horse that endangers us? It’s a steady steam of lies designed to induce Americans to kill each other. 

No number of fighter jets; no cache of assault rifles; no armada of submarines; no hordes of fighters will save us from the Trojan Horse. The Trojan Horse is armored with something far more powerful than iron, steel, or depleted uranium. The Trojan Horse’s armor is your own mind. 

Only courage will work to save you. It is not the courage to face an army. It is the courage to admit that you’ve been conned; that you were wrong; that you have been led down a garden path that leads nowhere near where you ever wanted to go. 

Find that courage. 

———————————-

The Mending Wall 

My Cousin Bobby

Where does your loyalty lie?

The Stopping Rule

The Update Problem

Guernica

What About the Butter Dish?

Dick-Taters

The Game

A Profound and Utter Failure

Roar, Ocean, Roar

Plans for US; some GRUesome

They Lost the Word for War

Author Page on Amazon

Subscribe

  • Entries (RSS)
  • Comments (RSS)

Archives

  • December 2025
  • November 2025
  • October 2025
  • September 2025
  • August 2025
  • July 2025
  • June 2025
  • May 2025
  • April 2025
  • March 2025
  • February 2025
  • January 2025
  • December 2024
  • November 2024
  • October 2024
  • September 2024
  • July 2024
  • April 2024
  • March 2024
  • February 2024
  • January 2024
  • December 2023
  • August 2023
  • July 2023
  • May 2023
  • April 2023
  • March 2023
  • February 2023
  • January 2023
  • December 2022
  • November 2022
  • October 2022
  • September 2022
  • August 2022
  • July 2022
  • June 2022
  • May 2022
  • April 2022
  • March 2022
  • February 2022
  • January 2022
  • December 2021
  • November 2021
  • October 2021
  • September 2021
  • August 2021
  • July 2021
  • June 2021
  • May 2021
  • April 2021
  • March 2021
  • February 2021
  • January 2021
  • December 2020
  • November 2020
  • October 2020
  • September 2020
  • August 2020
  • July 2020
  • June 2020
  • May 2020
  • April 2020
  • March 2020
  • February 2020
  • January 2020
  • December 2019
  • November 2019
  • October 2019
  • September 2019
  • August 2019
  • July 2019
  • June 2019
  • May 2019
  • April 2019
  • March 2019
  • February 2019
  • January 2019
  • December 2018
  • November 2018
  • October 2018
  • September 2018
  • August 2018
  • July 2018
  • June 2018
  • May 2018
  • April 2018
  • March 2018
  • February 2018
  • January 2018
  • December 2017
  • November 2017
  • October 2017
  • September 2017
  • August 2017
  • July 2017
  • June 2017
  • May 2017
  • April 2017
  • March 2017
  • February 2017
  • January 2017
  • December 2016
  • November 2016
  • October 2016
  • September 2016
  • August 2016
  • July 2016
  • June 2016
  • May 2016
  • April 2016
  • March 2016
  • February 2016
  • January 2016
  • December 2015
  • November 2015
  • October 2015
  • September 2015
  • August 2015
  • May 2015
  • January 2015
  • July 2014
  • January 2014
  • December 2013
  • November 2013

Categories

  • AI
  • America
  • apocalypse
  • cats
  • COVID-19
  • creativity
  • design rationale
  • driverless cars
  • essay
  • family
  • fantasy
  • fiction
  • HCI
  • health
  • management
  • nature
  • pets
  • poetry
  • politics
  • psychology
  • Sadie
  • satire
  • science
  • sports
  • story
  • The Singularity
  • Travel
  • Uncategorized
  • user experience
  • Veritas
  • Walkabout Diaries

Meta

  • Create account
  • Log in

Blog at WordPress.com.

  • Subscribe Subscribed
    • petersironwood
    • Join 664 other subscribers
    • Already have a WordPress.com account? Log in now.
    • petersironwood
    • Subscribe Subscribed
    • Sign up
    • Log in
    • Report this content
    • View site in Reader
    • Manage subscriptions
    • Collapse this bar
 

Loading Comments...