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Tag Archives: poetry

Happy New Year, 2026; Reviewing 2025

01 Thursday Jan 2026

Posted by petersironwood in America, pets, poetry, politics, psychology, satire, Uncategorized, user experience

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Tags

AI, Democracy, essays, fiction, life, poem, poetry, politics, Review, thinking, USA, writing

Here’s a hint for having a happy 2026–or, at least one happier than it would otherwise be.

Your happiness actually depends more on how much you love than on how much you are loved. That turns out to be a wonderful thing because you have much more control over how much you love than you do over how much you are loved by others. You need not limit your love to your immediate family. You can love all the fish in the sea; every bird in a tree; every living thing on earth–all of which are in our extended family.

I thought it might be useful for reviewing 2025 for readers to have an index in one place. For instance, something happens or you read something on-line and you think, “Oh, I read something relevant to this on the Peter S. Ironwood blog. Now, what was it called?” Well, this should help.

January 1, 2025 began with a blog post about one of our Golden Doodles named Sadie. I take her for a walk every morning and sometimes write about it. Here are some posts about Sadie.

Travels with Sadie 5: 2025 is here

Travels with Sadie 6: Find Waldo

Travels with Sadie 7: Tolerance

Travels with Sadie 8 – Singing of the Rain

Travels with Sadie 9: Joint Problem Solving

Travels with Sadie 10: The Best Laid Plans

Travels with Sadie 11: Teamwork

Travels with Sadie 12: Taking Turns

During 2025, I found myself writing a number of poems. Many, but not all, were in response to the destruction of America that’s being directed by Putin.

Metastasized

Exauguration Day

The Ides of February

Destroying Our Government’s Effectiveness

The Unread Red

Silent Screams of Dead Men’s Dreams

We Won the War! We Won the War!

Namble Mamble Jamble

Co-Travelers

Autocrat: Putin’s Evil Traitor

Just Desserts?

The Last Gleam of Twilight

Oh, Frabjous Day!

The “Not-See” Party

A Cancerous Weed

An Open Sore from Hell

Baddies often have Bad Daddies

Aside from poetry, I also wrote a number of satirical pieces.

FaceGook explores how the value of social media is mainly created by the participants. Of course, the participants don’t get paid. The companies that own the media do.

Tomorrow’s Dinner is a satire on how the media normalize what is not at all normal.

A Day at the HR Department satirizes the utter incompetence of the Misadministration

Putin’s Favorite DOGE is a satire about DOGE

Interview with Putrid’s DOG-E

E-Fishiness Comes to Mass General Hospital

But Mommy! I had a Reason! satirizes the absurdity of the excuses


Here are links to a number of essays about contemporary issues

Ohms Come in Many Flavors

Running with the Bulls in a China Shop

Increased E-Fishiness in Government

Destroying Natural Intelligence

The Irony Age

Frank Friend or Fawning Foe?

May You Live in Interesting Times

Waves or Particles?

President Mush? Just Flush

The Agony of the Feet

Plastics!

Cooperation is More Common than Disruption

Wordless Perfection


On the lighter side, I’ve been translating sections of “The Ninja Cat Manual” into English

The Ninja Cat Manual

The Ninja Cat Manual 2

The Ninja Cat Manual 3

The Ninja Car Manual 4

From September 20th to September 30th, I began revising & reposting earlier posts about User Experience. Here’s a link to the first:
Customer Experience does not equal Website Design

Turing’s Nightmares is a book of 23 Sci-Fi short stories that examine the future and the ethics of Artificial Intelligence. It’s available on Amazon, but you can also read the chapters in October, 2025 blog posts and commentary on the chapters in November blog posts.

November 28th, I began recounting a series of experiences illustrating the importance of problem formulation.

Problem Formulation Who Knows What?

Starting December 14th, there are a series of essays about various “Tools of Thought”

Tools of Thought


Have a *wonderful* 2026!

Baddies often had Bad Daddies

26 Friday Dec 2025

Posted by petersironwood in America, poetry, politics, psychology, Uncategorized

≈ 1 Comment

Tags

Democracy, life, poem, poetry, politics, USA

Baddies often had bad Daddies 

Abusive, drunkard, dullard Daddies

Who beat their kids and beat kids’ Mummies

Thinking: “Love’s for Dummies!”


Baddies who are Iceholes too

Do not care a whit ‘bout you

So long as they can shout “Woo hoo!”

They pretend they’re tending to

Security for you.

They’re too scared of actual crooks

Or even nasty liberal looks. 

They go after toddler brothers

And also after pregnant mothers;

They dress up like real live armies

Then hunt workers on potato farmies

While the ICEholes shout: “Woo hoo!”

ICE’re always feelin’ icky

Cause they got dealt a teeny dicky.

But bossman says they licky

His grossest parts of pricky

They’ll grow a giant dicky!

They’ve seen no growth just yet.

But they never know regret 

As they insanely scream “Woo hoo!”

Lucifer’s erecting 

Deeper rings of hell

For ICEholes who’re protecting

The Orange Con-Man ne’er do well:

Tortures that seem to last forever 

Just because indeed they do.

And though there’s respite never,

At least they get to scream “Woo hoo!” 


Author Page

The Ailing King of Agitate

After All

All We Stand to Lose

Essays on America: The Game

Essays on America: Wednesday

Essays on America: Labelism

Where Does Your Loyalty Lie?

My Cousin Bobby

Stoned Soup

The Three Blind Mice

Timeline for RIME

A NICE circle of friends

That Cold Walk Home

Somewhere a Bird Cries

The Walkabout Diaries: The Life of the Party

Travels with Sadie: Teamwork

The First Ring of Empathy

Tools of Thought

A Pattern Language for Collaboration and Cooperation

Plans for US; some GRUesome

Donnie Gets a Hamster

Tools of Thought: Theory of Mind

19 Friday Dec 2025

Posted by petersironwood in America, management, psychology, Uncategorized

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"Theory of Mind", AI, cooperation, Design, education, empathy, life, mental-health, poetry, politics, psychology, religion, sports, teamwork, truth, writing

Theory of Mind. 

“Theory of Mind” refers to the ability of most humans to imagine, at least to a degree, what another person is likely to do based on their knowledge of what the other person knows. Here is a simple test used to determine whether someone has this ability. 

You are the “subject” being tested and you are in a room with me (the “experimenter”). Your friend Vlad is in the room too. In full view of you and Vlad, I hide a giant luscious chocolate chip cookie (such as you might purchase from Panera, but won’t because you realize that if you buy it there is no way you aren’t going to eat it!). I “hide” this cookie in the top drawer of my desk. Now, Vlad walks out of the room. He’s well out of sight. Now, I take the cookie out of my drawer, and using great self-control, do not eat the cookie myself but instead put it in my pocket. 

two cookies beside white metal mug

Photo by rawpixel.com on Pexels.com

Now, I turn to you and ask, “When Vlad comes back, where will he look for the cookie?” If you are 2, 3, or 4 years old, you would say, “In your pocket!” I rephrase this a few times to make sure you understand that I am not asking you where the cookie actually is but where Vlad will search. You again insist that Vlad will look in my pocket. At such a young age, kids do not distinguish their state of knowledge from someone else’s. Most adults will have no problem with this task. They have a “theory of mind” that allows them to know that their state of knowledge is not the same as Vlad’s. Some adults diagnosed with autism will have trouble with this task however.

An interesting question arises as to whether other animals have a “theory of mind.” It is not a settled question. My purpose here however, is to explain what the term means and show how it’s useful for humans. Despite the fact that most adult humans have the capacity to do “theory of mind” tasks and that it is useful, they nonetheless often fail to evoke their capacity.

animal beautiful blonde daylight

Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.com

A closely related concept is “empathy.” Empathy generally refers to being able to feel what another person feels emotionally. I see the distinction as one of perspective or emphasis rather than two different entities. These two concepts (empathy and Theory of Mind) are explored in much greater detail in the “Myths of the Veritas” series in this blog. For now, suffice it to say that you might empathize with another person by relating to their facial expressions, posture, or regarding what they say and how they say it. You might see a picture of a small, terrified four-year old alone in a cage and know that they are terrified without having any verified knowledge or detailed knowledge of what they “know” or “don’t know.” They might or might not know any English. And you might or might not know their language or even what their language is. But you can tell that they are in great distress just by looking at them. If you actually feel what it is like to be a small child separated from your parents and being trapped in a cage in a strange place, that is generally called “empathy.” 

IMG_4410

If I were to ask you what kind of pleading this four year old is likely to make in court, if you have  the capacity for a “Theory of Mind,” you might well ask, “Well…I don’t know. What do they know about courts or proceedings? What could they know? They are only four years old.”  You’d be correct, of course, to question whether it was meaningful to have a four year old acting for themselves in court. This would be particularly true if they had to plead in a court where they were unfamiliar with the culture, the venue, and the language. But even a really smart four year old who had been brought up in America and spoke excellent English would not be capable of really understanding the consequences. This kind of understanding demonstrates a deeper theory of mind than simply knowing that because a specific piece of information is in your own head doesn’t mean it’s in someone else’s head. 

In The Myths of the Veritas, people are given a range of tasks that involve what is called empathy. To me, although one can draw a conceptual distinction between understanding another person’s knowledge and feeling an echo of another person’s feelings, when it comes to many practical situations, it’s more important to put oneself in another person’s shoes, than to correctly label the process. 

Writers must often deal with multi-level theories of mind. There is what the writer knows about the events that are being written about in a story. There are the spheres of knowledge that various characters have. Most often, different characters have critically different states of knowledge. What the reader knows is yet again different. And all of these spheres of knowledge change throughout the course of the narrative. 

In The Myths of the Veritas, for example, the author knows throughout that ALT-R is making POND MUD put his face in the mud purely to humiliate him and keep power over him. ALT-R knows it as well. Over time, most readers will come to the same conclusion but not necessarily at exactly the same place in the narrative. Most of the Veritas tribe initially know nothing about this incident, but She-Of-Many-Paths intuits it and eventually many of the Veritas come to understand it. At first POND MUD is fairly certain ALT-R saved his life by making him do it. But as he observes and interacts with ALT-R and others, he begins to doubt that and then goes about actively seeking information from others that would help clarify ALT-R’s true motives. 

mudface

In Othello, the writer knows from the beginning that Iago is an evil sociopath. The audience knows quite early that Iago is an evil sociopath and learns more about his schemes through speeches that Iago delivers directly to the audience. Othello himself, on the other hand, has his state of “knowledge” manipulated by Iago. The audience knows that Othello is being duped by Iago but Othello himself does not know of it or of Desdemona’s innocence when he murders her though at that point, the writer, the audience, Desdemona, Iago, Cassio and other characters all know that Desdemona is innocent. We have some sympathy for Othello because we realize that he is operating on false information. 

Let’s turn to a happier piece of fiction, The Gift of the Magi by O’Henry (William Sydney Porter). In this story, a couple with financial struggles each gives up their most prized possession to buy a gift for the other. The functional value of the gifts is destroyed by what they gave up. Della knows that Jim’s most prized possession is his gold watch so she sells her beautiful hair to get money to buy him a watch chain. Jim knows that Della’s most prized possession is her beautiful hair so he sells his watch in order to buy her some jeweled combs for her hair. Of course, the real gifts they give are not diminished by their being no longer functional. The real gift is the gift of love. The author obviously knows all this from the beginning. Readers “catch on” to what is happening at various points in the narrative, but Jim and Della are the last to learn of the full irony. 

woman wearing white long sleeved shirt

Photo by Element5 Digital on Pexels.com

Sadly, many people seem not to bother trying to understand the situation and capabilities of others. In one of the simplest cases, people are apparently unable to understand how very basic physical properties of the universe result in various people having various states of knowledge. On the tennis court, in a “friendly game,” the players themselves make the calls and keep track of the score. The server is supposed to announce the score before every serve. Some people actually “announce” the score by saying it so softly that only they can hear it! 

In other cases, novice drivers will follow a semi truck so closely that the truck drive cannot see the car behind them. Another trick of drivers is to turn their blinkers on – but only as they begin making the turn. In another post, I explain how one person’s driving behavior in “stop and go traffic” can influence many other people’s. In particular, if you leave a large space between your car and the one in front of you, it makes it easier for many people around you to drive more smoothly because they have a much more complete view of what is happening in front of them. 

buildings cars city cross harbour tunnel

Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.com

A more subtle failure in “Theory of Mind” occurs when a person assumes that everyone is motivated in the same way that they are. For example, a person may be so partisan that they will always defend and promote people in their own political party no matter how heinous the crimes of that person. This is an error, but a concomitant error is that such people assume everyone who doesn’t defend the criminal, and certainly anyone who actively resists such a crooked politician is doing so from a purely partisan perspective because that’s what they would do. Sociopaths who cheat may assume that everyone would cheat and the only reason they don’t cheat is because those non-cheaters are not smart enough to get away with it. 

When teamwork is operating at a high level, whether it’s hockey, soccer, tennis doubles, basketball, families, or design teams, people exhibit excellent “Theory of Mind” skills. How are yours? Have you experienced such high functioning teams? How can you improve your skills at “Theory of Mind”? 

One way to improve your “Theory of Mind” skills is to become aware of the kinds of perceptual, memory, and problem solving errors that people are generally prone to. Many of the posts linked to below explore some aspect of human psychology.

group of woman playing on green field during daytime

Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.com


Author Page on Amazon

The Primacy Effect

Labelism

Wednesday

The Update Problem

The Stopping Rule

My Cousin Bobby

Where does your Loyalty Lie?

The Invisibility Cloak of Habit

How the Nightingale Learned to Sing

Roar, Ocean, Roar

The Iroquois Rule of Six

Happy Talk Lies

The Loud Defense of Untenable Positions

Cancer Always Loses in the End

Who Won the War?

After All

The Last Gleam of Twilight

E-Fishiness Mass General Hospital

Me Too

    

An Open Sore from Hell

16 Sunday Nov 2025

Posted by petersironwood in America, poetry

≈ 5 Comments

Tags

coward-ICE, cowardice, Democracy, Dictatorship, fascism, history, life, poem, poetry, politics, truth, USA

Everything is swell

There’s an open sore from hell

Knocking on the door

Don’t bother with the bell

Monsters with a mask

Have a thrilling vital task

Tear apart our nation 

Feel the thrill of their elation

Parading as a patriotic posse pod

Parading as the very voice of God

Knocking down the door

Acting as the whore

Of the petty orange melon 

Of the child rapist felon

The Puppeteer of Puke

Acting like a Duke

Imagining he’s King

Because his teeny thing-a-ling

The ICEholes just deprave

Nothing noble, nothing brave

To tear apart our should and could

Nothing holy, nothing good

Not the smallest jot of joy 

The monster that’s the Monster of Destroy

Thinking its his toy

To militarily deploy

Addictive greed his only creed

In his crusade of self-destruction

Hate and fear and no construction

And the open sore from hell

Doesn’t bother with the bell

Knocking down the walls

Builds a cage of gilded halls

Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.com

But the people, ah, the people

Can see the void beneath the steeple

Will not go gently into that blank night

Will not forsake the shining light

Will not let the greedy rapists win

Veneers of lies are wearing thin

And soon the king of agitate

Minions spewing lies and hate

Grow weary of their dreary ways

Grow leery of their dead-eyed days

And the people, ah, the people see

What the Not-See Party cannot see

That cancer always loses in the end

The light of love soon will mend

The open sores of cancerous greed

They’re but a self-destructive weed

Who wilts and whines and whinges 

When their chief departs his hinges

—————

The Ailing King of Agitate

At Least He’s Our Monster

Absolute is not Just a Vodka

Cancer Always Loses in the End

D4

Dick-Tater-$hits

Imagine All the People

Roar, Ocean, Roar

The Dance of Billions

Destroying Natural Intelligence

Peace

Who Won the War? 

We Won the War! We Won the War!

The US Extreme Court

Come to the Light Side

Where Does Your Loyalty Lie?

What About the Butter Dish? 

My Cousin Bobby

Labelism

The Game

The Walkabout Diaries

The First Ring of Empathy

Travels with Sadie

The Truth Train 

The “Not-See” Party

A Cancerous Weed

24 Wednesday Sep 2025

Posted by petersironwood in America, poetry, Uncategorized

≈ 1 Comment

Tags

Democracy, fantasy, life, poem, poetry, politics, truth, USA, writing

Like poisonous vines

Of cancerous deeds

Whose only needs

Are parasitic hate

And never-ending whines.

Cancer-weed grows darkly while it lies in wait.

Photo by Roman Pohorecki on Pexels.com

Be a reed;

Be a fire;

Be a seed—

A seed of love.

Star above.

Tuneful lyre. 

A ray of light.

Destroys the blight.

The parasitic worm of hate

Cannot survive when bathed in light

It fears both fight and flight

It knows not love

Only a hurtful shove

And rusty metal glove.

Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.com

Be a seed

Be a reed

Be a light 

In darkest night.

A bloated orange tick;

Ever envies normal dick; 

Ever scoffs at those who earn;

Ever scorns those who learn;

Divides to conquer and to kill;

It’s its one and only skill.

Be the fire;

Be the light;

Light the night;

Juice the wire.

Empty stalks of uncut grains.

Empty talk from worm-fueled brains.

Families broken on wheels of greed.

The Rule of Law is sold for song.

A pedophile’s pathetic need

Trumps anyone knowing right from wrong.

Photo by Matheus Bertelli on Pexels.com

Be the spark

That lights the dark.

Be the throng.

Who rights the wrong.

But my 401K is doing okay!

Who cares if it all goes south one day?

I’m so straight—not one bit gay!

I’m all white and no bits black!

I love a fight when none hit back!

Photo by Marco Milanesi on Pexels.com

Be a reed.

Be a seed.

In darkest night,

Ignite your light.

Who cares if millions die in endless war?

Our minds can’t think ahead so far. 

Even though a thousand years of tyrants are the same.

Their cruelty and greed is insane shame. 

Be the fire; 

Be the light;

Light the night.

Juice the wire. 

Be the fire; 

Juice the wire.

Light the night.

Be the light.


Roar, Ocean, Roar

Imagine All the People

After the Fall

After All

Dance of Billions

All We Stand to Lose

The Game

Peace

The Only Them that Counts is All of Us

Math Class: Who Are You?

Where does your Loyalty Lie?

Absolute is not Just a Vodka

My Cousin Bobby

That Cold Walk Home

Donnie Gets a Blue Ribbon

The First Ring of Empathy

The Orange Man

The Three Blind Mice

The “Not-See” Party

02 Tuesday Sep 2025

Posted by petersironwood in America, poetry, politics

≈ 2 Comments

Tags

Democracy, life, poem, poetry, politics, truth, USA

They pretend they can Not See:

Polluting of the rivers

The browning of the skies

The wailing and the cries 

Of children ripped from givers.

They pretend they can Not See:

The children shot in schools

The children needless dead

The smirking orange head

Dementia’s pooling drools. 

They pretend they can Not See:

America’s plummeting rep

Demoralizing troops

The empty-headed whoops

The flashy trashy goose-step.

They pretend they can Not See:

As airplanes fall from skies

The rotting fruit in fields

The thugs with masks, not shields

America’s freedom dies.

They pretend they can Not See:

That crime is on the rise

They cyber truck in lies

Kill wisdom with the wise

American excellence dies.

—————————

After All

The Crows and Me

After the Fall

Where does your loyalty lie?

Siren Song

The Game

Imagine all the people

Roar, Ocean, Roar

Peace

Dance of Billions

Oh, Frabjous Day!

23 Saturday Aug 2025

Posted by petersironwood in America, poetry, politics

≈ 3 Comments

Tags

Democracy, life, poem, poetry, politics, truth, USA

Oh, hear the big drum bang-a-lang!

And hear the bugles bray all day!

See every tooth devolve to fang!

And watch small children cheat at play!

It was not at all a frabjous day.

Who says dictatorships aren’t fun?

At first it’s just a few who die,

But cancer spreads to everyone,

And all begin to spread The Lie.

It was not at all a frabjous day.

Photo by Denniz Futalan on Pexels.com

Though crime explodes while felons rule,

We hide these facts with sharpie pens.

Though prices spike & pedos drool,

The greedy feast on pus-filled wens.

It was not at all frabjous day

Uncaring that the Shining City on the Hill.

Became the Pyre of the Vengeful Kill,

The Garden withers; fruit rots in unpicked lands,

The pickers jailed with handcuffed hands.

King screams Chaos in loud unrhythmic blands.  

We try not to see the cruelty seep, then flood, then fill 

Till many millions die

Why?

It was not at all a frabjous day

Photo by judit agusti aranda on Pexels.com



Despite the cancerous cosplay

It was not a frabjous day

It was not a frabjous day

Not in the least or teeniest way

When Democracy dribbled and drabbled away.

It was not a frabjous day


The Truth Train

Roar, Ocean, Roar

The Dance of Billions

The Last Gleam of Twilight

How the Nightingale Learned to Sing

Timeline for RIME

Essays on America: The Game

D4

Essays on America: Labelism

Where Does Your Loyalty Lie?

The Stopping Rule

My Cousin Bobby

Peace

Corn on the Cob

The Self-Made Man

Happy Talk Lies

That Cold Walk Home

Imagine All the People

The Last Gleam of Twilight

14 Thursday Aug 2025

Posted by petersironwood in America, poetry

≈ 6 Comments

Tags

Democracy, life, love, poem, poetry, politics, truth, USA, writing

How does it feel?
Let’s keep it real.

How does it feel?

To sell so short the American Dream?

To sell for a song your family and friends?

To sell your soul, your heart, your mind?

Pretend no monsters around the bends;

Pretend that cruelty actually is kind.

Pretend putrid muck is a clear flowing stream.

All so you can kiss the rings

Of swine who would be kings

Who promised a world

Enshrined in shiny pearls

In golden leaf and diamond swirls

Who delivering instead

A worm in your head

A reign of radical racist hate

A frosted fog of friendless state.

A razzle of maniacal dazzle

A dazzle of frankly farcial razzle.

Oh, say, can you still see

With no light at the dawn

When the Law is a pawn

That once we had Democracy?

Red ink galore,

Red blood and gore, 

Torture and pus:

That’s what becomes of US. 

Instead of courage and captains to lead

We’re told obey the maggots; worship cancer

A Dancer Obese, a Necromancer

A boastful beast, a prideful prancer

Turned on by making children bleed. 

A warm summer rain 

Which washes your brain 

Then soon turns to ice

Trashing everything nice.

Pretty, petty falsehoods fill the air 

Making it hard for you even to care. 

So you join parades

And welcome charades;

Salute the sign of the twisted cross.

Pretend what matters is Glitter and Gloss.

How does it feel?

Let’s keep it real.

How does it feel:

To sell mother, father, sister, brother?

To sell into slave-hood your own hopes and dreams?

To cater to cons and kowtow to killers? 

Pretend wrong is right 

Pretend dark is light?

To cover your eyes and feign you’ve no sight?

Defile the planet we need to survive?

Destroy the work of thousands who strive

Break all the glass 

And act like an ass?

Let melons rot in unpicked fields.

Let felons pick US for human shields. 

Let science die upon the vine. 

Let’s all burn witches one last time.

Oh, say, can you still see

With no light at the dawn

When the Law is a pawn

That once we knew Democracy?

When drunken rage has broken every mirror

You don’t have to look at what you’ve now become;

No need to admit your decisions were dumb;

No need to reflect; instead, just deflect.

Cover your face and pretend you’re not you.

Smother your feelings and revel in cruel.

How does it feel?

Let’s keep it real.

How does it feel?

To destroy our parks to make wealthy folks grin

To burn down the forests and drink crystal gin?

Rape underage children and blame someone other? 

To laugh at the tears of each desolate mother?

 

A warm summer rain

Destroys your brain

Floods away courage 

From the land of the brave

The rain turns to sleet 

The sleet turns to ice 

And soon a sheet of sordid lice

Covers with slime, the trust of the truth 

And duct-tapes all our scream-blistered lips

Sinks every one of our sailing ships; 

Airplanes fall from smog-filled skies

Shot down by rockets made of lies.

 

What was once a land of love and life 

Striving toward a fairer, grander prize

Becomes a muddy barren ice-filled waste. 

Everyone sprints in a hasty race to taste

The few remaining crud-crusted crumbs

Seeks the momentary thrill that numbs.

Let’s get real.
How does it feel?

How does it feel? 

There has always been a part of you that knew:

The lies were lies; the con was con. 

There was no prize;

No prize—

Except the short term rush of kill

Except the hit of heroin thrill.

You watch the lovely rockets red glare 

As they stream across the pounding sky

How pretty they look as your shark eyes stare 

As you crane your neck so far so fair

Like a chick upon the chopping block

Just one of a fear-filled feckless flock

Choking on a lifeless lump of lie

Right before you dissolve and die. 

As your severed head plops upon the ground

You sense the booming dooming sound 

Of bombast bursting in polluted air

Maybe this is your final dream: 

If only you care to care.

If only you dare to dare,

Your country won’t die in rockets’ red glare

Your flag will still be there. 

Be there! 

It’s twilight’s last gleam.
Help save the dream.

Be there!
Care to care
Dare to dare

In twilight’s last gleam.


D4

Absolute is not Just a Vodka

At Least he’s our Monster

Dick-Taters

Essays on America: The Game

You Bet Your Life

Wednesday

What about the Butter Dish?

The Stopping Rule

Where does your Loyalty Lie?

The Truth Train

Plans for US; some GRUesome

Imagine all the people

Peace

Dance of Billions

Roar, Ocean, Roar

Just Desserts?

04 Wednesday Jun 2025

Posted by petersironwood in America, poetry, politics

≈ 2 Comments

Tags

Democracy, faith, fiction, greed, life, love, poem, poetry, politics, USA, writing

Photo by Pexels on Pexels.com

The greediest people of this world

Will never have enough. Enough.

Times be good.

Times be tough. 

Furniture made of finest wood.

Furniture made of glass and steel.

The finest ever made! 

Furniture of jade?

Furniture of gold? 

Furniture of workers’ teeth?

Furniture of … 

Never mind. 

It’s always too unkind.

It always makes their blood congeal

Unless more cruelty’s part of the deal.

AI-generated from this prompt: “A photo of earth from outer space. However, the earth is actually giant orange pig.”

 

The very greediest people in the world

Will never have enough. Enough.

Weather is too hot.

Weather is too cold. 

A world of green and blue 

Beloved by me

Beloved by you. 

Must be destroyed. 

Must be replaced. 

With empty rock 

And endless sand. 

Sung and swung by robot yuck.

Rhythms of the cyber band.

Ugly as a Cyber Fruck.

Wrapped in packaged poppycock.


 

The very greediest people in the world

Will never have enough. Enough.

Times be good 

Or times be tough. 

There’s always more to steal from me and you. 

No matter breathable skies of crystal blue

Are turned to grey and brown and goo. 

The endless quest for perfect life

Always ends in war and strife. 

Always ends in death and muck. 

Always destroys the innocents. 

Always destroys innocence. 

The very greediest people in the world 

Don’t give a damn. They patiently explain

Lives destroyed mean even more to gain.

Everyone else’s skin’s too dark, 

Or, they’re living homeless in the park,

Or they fled their homeland on a raft.

Can you think of else that daft

Just to skirt enslavement, death

Just to try to take another breath. 

The very greediest people in the world

Will never have enough. Enough.

To fill their hearts with love and mirth

Even when they rape and force a birth

Forests are replaced with parking lots. 

Even when their plagues and wars and crimes

Farmland fog becomes the mustard killing fields 

Village squares become the hanging place.

Every Saint will fall from grace. 

No amount of power, gold, or greed. 

Fills their dark and empty place.

Vodka, ketamine, or world’s best weed

Power kills and easily as speed.

Cruelty fills no empty souls. 

Fooling fools gets really old.

Original Masks by Sarah Morgan
Original Masks by Sarah Morgan

 

The very greediest people in the world

Will never have enough. Enough.

When all along they missed the joys of life

Aside from those that come from winning strife.

Along with the millions they inevitably kill

A life of lies; mindless greed always will. 

Instead a tuning in to what we are

A tiny leaf upon a giant Tree of Life

Every living thing is family

A Tree of Love far more than strife.

Cancer is outside the loving tree

Afraid, alone, aspires a star. 

The very greediest people in the world

Will never have enough. Enough.

Enough.

Enough.

———————

D4

The Orange Man

Cancer Always Loses in the End

Absolute is not Just a Vodka

Interview with Putin’s favorite DOG-E

Stoned Soup

The Three Blind Mice

The Ailing King of Agitate

How the Nightingale Learned to Sing

Math Class

Imagine All the People

Peace

Roar, Ocean, Roar

Dance of Billions

The First Ring of Empathy

The Walkabout Diaries: Bee Wise

Travels with Sadie

Plans for US; Some Gruesome

Dance of Billions

To Be or Not to Be

Autocrat: Putin’s Evil Traitor

26 Monday May 2025

Posted by petersironwood in America, poetry, politics

≈ 1 Comment

Tags

Democracy, life, poem, poetry, politics, USA

AI generated.

Life is more about cooperation than about competition.

Cancer always loses in the end:

A stupidly selfish ploy

That destroys life but never ever wins.

AI-generated.






Born to wealth but weakened by his sins;

A spoiled toddler incapable of joy;

AI generated

A silly little boy

Who lies and whines but never wins.

Liar, felon, con man, rapist

Cowardly and inept

Tangerine Man

Toxic to America

AI generated

Oh, say can you see the danger

Of a POTUS corrupt

And destructive

To everything beautiful?


Where does your loyalty lie?

Donnie watches a Veteran’s Day Parade

The Declaration of Interdependence

The Self-Made Man

Their Dead Shark Eyes

Absolute is not Just a Vodka

D4

Essays on America: The Game

Siren Song

Stoned Soup

Three Blind Mice

The Orange Man

Cancer Always Loses in the End

Roar, Ocean, Roar

Dance of Billions

Imagine all the People

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