And after the storm
In the middle of the afternoon
Was a break large enough?
For many locals
To make their way to the coast
Along where the sealions
Lay on the beaches!
Protected with fences and rocks.
But above there was a crowd
Watching them snore in delight.
While a few brave men
Donned thick black wear.
To dive in under the freezing water
A day at the beach
Does not allow mean.
Sun umbrellas and sunscreen
But rain umbrellas and thick sweaters
Hot coffee is also appreciated.
I almost pushed a fat old lady.
Into the water because she stopped
Right in front of me as the lone jogger
Had to have the entire thin walk.
The walk is an old one for me.
I must have caught Pneumonia.
A dozen times here alone
A favorite spot for my family to visit.
My father enjoyed bringing his friends.
From the east coast who have beaches
But not that California skyline
And pure natural sounds of the sea
A supper afterwards
And stories of their youth
And promises of their children's future.
Too often this is the sad case.
OF those who have already gone to war
The idea that life when they get back.
Will be normal or at least as it should be.
Instead, it is a constant strain.
Not to reveal what they endured
Nor what others died in order for them to live?
While they see children in need
It is themselves who don't see how fragile.
Thier own lives are without a control.
We were followed everywhere.
By those who were non war mongers
Now their children talk of nothing...
But what it means to be a veterans family member
Having stolen not only the wallets but also the lives
Of others in order to feel important
There are over 200 girls.
Who believe they are real royal princesses.
Instead of bastard children
Of a prostitute who did not want
To keep the child nor kill it.
They should have had the abortion.
The children have done nothing deserving.
Of life but bring more little criminals into the world
In my dreams
There is an entire mental hospital.
Of women with the same problem
They all believe they came out of my vagina.
They all believe they are the one and only one.
The all believe they are the real princess behind my back.
None of them have a life.
Except to hide it from me
And show up with guns to prove to me.
That they are not my child.
But my enemy
Ready to kill me for nothing at all.
I recall sometimes being allowed.
To be with my younger brother out there
We dreamed of pirates.
We explored every inch of those rocks.
Looking for signs of buried treasure
There is an old house with an old chest on the porch.
I cry when I go by for those boys.
Not for Jimmy who has always had his way.
With everyone else but me
He killed my sister and my mother.
In order to have something that is not real
Just because he is too stupid.
He will lose his head one day.
My guitarist used to travel with me
He was an old friend.
His family knew mine
He was a musician.
But I had already been presented.
To the judges in many places
I had the right to call myself.
A folk singer
Not a Pop star
I played the violin or danced.
But had been trained to sing pure old fashioned.
My little sister started to show up
And do head stands or cartwheels.
then they gave her percussion instruments
One year we all got lost
We children had to make our way back
From Cabo San Lucas
We sang Felix Navidad
All the way from bus stop to bus stop
While our parents who had gone out to supper
Where on a boat lost at sea
The supper was on the large boat.
They were now on the small one
They made it to shore eventually.
But my younger ones were not going.
To forgive them if they did not get
Thier Christmas gifts.
When we had the late event
We all got musical instruments.
Instead of bikes or skates.
Just as well, they did threaten.
And got what they deserved.
Anyways my guy was older.
Showed up when he could not take it anymore.
His parents got divorced but not before.
They argued everywhere.
A Manhattan socialite
who married a European?
Moved to South America
to have a farm in the wilds
Those things never work
He was a loner with a guitar
A college degree in arts
And guts to go it alone
He had best friends.
Who did other things?
One year we traveled together.
Through Turkey towards India
and everywhere in between
on a school bus with others
We all sang and danced.
Our way through the seventies
Paradise of the other side of the world
We learned a lot
Survived even more hurdles.
Were followed home by those.
Who don't understand the real world?
Criminals and swindlers
Don't want others to be happy.
Those who fight for them.
Those who come to rescue them.
Those who just want to meet them or their country.
My business partner is what he was.
We made a single vinyl record.
It went Platinum.
Thats above Gold
No one remembers it anymore.
Nor me singing my heart out.
He does something else now.
But I remember arriving by bus everywhere.
instead of by car, my family-owned autos
We might not have been rich.
But we had worked hard.
Unlike my mother who spent her time
Giving everything away
And brought up ungrateful.
Bitches who want to call me mom.
I am not mom nor am I grandma.
I am the one to send them back.
To prison or their point of origin.
Meanwhile it was a pleasant walk.
I even remembered that special person.
I was in a romance.
He took me there to remember my life.
Bought me things from the street vendors.
We had supper and were going to go
The next day to the museums
Then we took a walk
And were captured by Candy.
Never did get anything I wanted.
Not even a night of romance
Ruined by her needles.
And her demand to be her lesbian sex slave.
Convicted as a teenager of homosexual tendencies.
Imagine growing up in the Seventies.
With that on your school records.
Not a pretty thing
The boys acted odd around one.
And the teacher was unsympathetic.
Making life so difficult
Still got the perfect scores on the state tests.
Making everyone angry with me.
It was all in her head not mine.
But I did not understand.
I had no life coming to me.
Maybe that is why I went in for things.
Such as the National Park tour guide
Or the Forestry fire fighter helicopter pilot
Because there was nothing else open
For a girl with smarts and fine tastes
I hate Jimmy in a way most won't understand.
I won't ever understand what a woman wants.
With another women
I don't care what the men do.
As long as it is their choice.
But the girls are crazy!
I will probably never see that one again!
Oh, and there was a summit.
The G-20 meet to make decisions.
It used to be exciting to see.
If they were going to correct
The environment or the atmosphere
Now they are still complaining.
About something they themselves
Might be guilty.
Getting into an argument
With their own neighbor
No G-17's he said.
Zelensky still wants his planes
The tanks are not good. enough
He wants to blast a whole.
In the Kremlin itstelf
After he threw the first stone
An unprovoked attack is what they are calling it.
We know better than that.
But the jargon is towards
An underdog and a bully
God rest the souls.
Of those who cause
One of them to disappear.
On the map.
Even the Danish Royals
And the French ones
Are showing up in China.
Who has decided to be the peace keepers
One never does know who it will be
To step foreword
To cross the line in the sand
To say enough is enough.
Of this argument
Let's end it before it goes to far.
Perhaps some might live.
To bring a better world to both.
Perhaps it will never be ended
The argurment between Kiev and Moscow.
Oh the beauty of the sea
With the wild sounds of the ocean
And the sky in contrast to the earth.
Let's all pray for another day.
Except for those special ones
Who don't deserve another day?
Such as Jimmy for stealing
A little girls vagina for himself
Or those who just need another news story...
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