“Life is hard, but not impossible”
Life in the Archipelago
The harsh environment
Without atonement
Surrounded by the sea
Nowhere to hide or flee
Life at its simplest
Still most dearest
Would not change it
To the big city life
Even with the strife
For no better fit
Than in the archipelago
Except maybe,
In Trinidad and Tobago
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Then this ebony bird beguiling my sad fancy into smiling,
By the grave and stern decorum of the countenance it wore,
“Though thy crest be shorn and shaven, thou,” I said, “art sure no craven,
Ghastly grim and ancient Raven wandering from the Nightly shore—
Tell me what thy lordly name is on the Night’s Plutonian shore!”
Quoth the Raven “Nevermore.”
The Raven EDGAR ALLAN POE
Birds
Face to face
Eye to eye
This was one race
Which could go awry
Standing there
Assessing me
Its glare
Devouring me
Without any warning
Flying across the air
Giving me the scare
Looking with scorning
No escape
Its mouth agape
It tilted its head
Quoth the bird “Polly wants a cracker”
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RIP FINNISH SUMMER 3.-5.7.2015
“People take pictures of the Summer, just in case someone thought they had missed it, and to proved that it really existed” Ray Davies
In Memory of the Finnish Summer 2015
Oh what a bummer
When the finnish summer
Died a quick death
Before we could catch a breath
You stayed here for three days
And inspired us in so many ways
You did not go quietly into that good night
But put up a good fight
With a thunder and heavy rain
You tried to ease our pain
Rest in peace our dearest one
Maybe next year we’ll have some fun
When once more
You will be reborn
“I am a doctor, not a magician!” Leonard McCoy
Homage to Dr McCoy i.e. DeForest Kelley
I am a doctor, not a doorstop
I can go on nonstop
I am a miracle worker
Maybe even a tearjerker
Concocting cures for all ailments
I have the treatments
No matter if my patients
Be alien or human
Even if the Yeoman
Came down with the flu
I have the cure and the clue
On what to do
So maybe I am a magician
The premium edition
And even that green blooded
Gosh, darn, crud it…Vulcan
Has to admit it
And I am loving every damned minute!
Ode to all Red Shirts, dead or alive
“He’s Dead, Jim” Dr McCoy
Being a Red Shirt is never easy
Wearing a red shirt
Feeling like about to get hurt
The target is painted on my back
No time for sleep or a snack
I know I am not really cherished
And quite soon to be perished
Since I am mainly used as cannon fodder
Even though I am none the odder
Than a yellow or blue shirted one
So, now my time has come
And with the beat of the drum
I will march into my doom
Proudly, staring into the gloom
After all it is my duty
And that is the beauty
Of being a Red Shirt
Rantings Of A Third Kind 