I reach between two oceans, with my finger trace the land
Decreeing one beach rocky, another lined with sand
Touch mountains running southward, a wrinkle in the skin
With one hard breath I cause the death of half a million men

I wonder who could live there, where the Earth is painted white
No cities to see, and that tells me they are buried in the ice
I next touch down in Asia, where the towns have funny names
Like Ping and Lo, and Zhing and Seoul, but it feels just the same

Samarkand and Hindustan are mere baby steps away
I step across Mt Everest, put thumbs down on Bengal Bay
The people of Namibia get crushed by clumsy hands
Orange Free State meets similar fate, as do its Afrikaans

The Atlantic needs more islands, I design them with a pen
Suddenly my godhood’s over, with a slap on my rear end
‘For the last time, young man, stay out of  your Dad’s den!’
So until tomorrow, the globe gets one last backwards spin.

10 responses to this post.

  1. This is a cute one with a hmm…a mean rider, of course ! love it


  2. Just asking, Why do you threaten the naughty politician end of poem, like a sudden burst of rage?


    • you are good.
      This was a poem that was more about the blogosphere’s exposes of politicians. One in particular, Andrew Breitbart, was known for editing videos to change the meaning of what the person said.. And he died the day I was writing this, so I wrote it from what I viewed as his perspective


      • Ah ! let me add though, beyond his perspective, this poem has a broader reach, quite relevant all across.

        I had liked “Cliches fulfilled Cliches defied” on xanga. It reflected in my facebook account. A friend of mine liked it too.

      • That, “Cliches, etc”., is the newest piece i have written; everything I am posting is 1-4 years old. I am posting in no particular order, just what i strikes my fancy as I peruse my catalog

      • As you please, Sir. My friend liking it was for your kind information only.

        By the way let me whisper you a secret. That’s exactly what I have been doing. One new and 3 older ones.

        I am 38 now. I was venting before, now I am mellow, a bit. i say. You’ll find that ranging in my poems

      • I only started writing six years ago, so I have a lot of material to draw on. I am hoping that the muse will return soon, and stick around for a season or two.

      • WoW. that’s common stats for both of us. I swear

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