All posts by J Jay Samuel Davis

A West Texas Cowboy, seeking "fishers of (wo)men!"

My perfectly perfect Gal down under ~

“BUNDLE OF JOY!” a poem, a.k.a.: “Perfect Preference!” July 21, 2019 (Sunday)

A-man-I-know-begs – for long, straight-legs and Isaac’s got “hips” on his mind,

And some men want milk, from pendulous breasts, whereas some-simply-love:

the-behind!

There are all sorts of girls – and guys in The World, and preferences range high & low,

But-each guy-&-gal must make their own call! Their I-Deal-date, they-just “know!”

It might take a-little-while (and se-ver-al miles) to track down your perfect, sweet “mate,”

And those in Australia – will just yell: “Oh, Hell-yeaH,” when in-walks that-someone so- great!

For me, in my dreams, my perfect gal beams – and-smiles with-a mischievous look!

She’s-a-Bundle-of-Joy, for this horny boy; I’ve searched her in every porn book!

She’s-not very-tall, kinda-shy (What a DOLL!)

And SHE’S THICK,

And SHE’S SOFT,

Yet, SO-WILD!

She’s a bundle, she is! not-too-big, for-her-his, and she’s smart! Oh, so-clever – and MILD,

But NOT mild in s – x; she’s my Tyra-X-Rex, for in bed, flames fly high overhead!

She’s-SO-RIGHT! My-de-light! She’s-a-“fountain”-of-light! In-The-Category: “Gorgeous, drop-dead!”

What-A-PACKAGE, right-size, from her breasts – to her thighs, which are strong and can BOUNCE! ALL AROUND,

So-I-can-grasp-her RIGHT-IN, & indulge, for-“a-win,” for she’s “FOX-y” and I am her hound!

fin <3

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Oh my goodness me Roachy ~ Ran away πŸ€ͺ

“THIS ONE’S FOR ED, WHO WAS BANISHED FROM THE REGION!” a poem Sunday: 21 July 2019

The council met LATE; dear old Ed missed the date! “We’re concerned! Where is he, Mr. Roach?”

“I don’t know-and-I’m-concerned! Perhaps Ed just got burned, by The Poet, who’s sometimes “a coach,”

&-will ex-cor-i-se – some of us, no surprise – IF HE FINDS US ALONE IN THE SINK!

“I don’t like Mystic Poet; he is mean! (We-all-know-it!) He’s so cruel – and-he thinks that we stink!”

“Well, ho-ho – and ha-ha,” said Dear Ed’s great grampa! and-Ed-was-now-sure very-late!

“Perhaps poor Ed is dead! This-one’s “on-The-Poet’s-head!” said Eddy’s po-tent-i-al-mate,

Whose name was Croleen – and she was quite obscene, but the tears rolled so thick down her cheeks,

And-her-antennae-did-twitch, as-she-continued-to-bitch! Did you know: Cock-a-roaches have beaks?

Yes, it’s true, don’t-be-blue; Ed’s outside! Here’s a clue: HE WAS TRAPPED-EARLIER inside a glass!

Trapped-by Mystic-Poet, and now you all know-it:

OUTSIDE! IS-HIS BANISH-ED ArSSe!

fin <3

Baby Shower my Dreams ~

“THE LAST CHEESE STICK YOU’LL EVER NEED!” a poem 21 July 2019 [SUN.]

I’m SO IN LOVE WITH YOU, I gave you my LAST cheese stick!

I-figured – it might be a substitute – for-my firm, throbbing LIPs!

I gave you a reduced-fat mozzarella stick, so-as not-to-affect-your-hips,

Which are curvy and delicious, and I really LOVE your style,

And-I-think (like MR. SMITH*) you should be replicated, mile after mile!

SO, I SAVED THE CHEESE STICK WRAPPER & DID EX-PER-IMENTS,

TO CLONE YOUR GORGEOUS NATURE! I PUT UP MANY TENTS,

In my back yard, to-“house” the Many You’s,

But I NOTICED! a lot of “them” started to drink a lot of booze!!

I found AN ANCIENT MANUSCRIPT! I dug it up one day;

It said: “The prettiest girls always like to drink a lot – and STRAY?!”

So-after-several-weeks, EVERY-TENT-GIRL had (at least) one intimate guy,

IN HER TENT! They-were-all-drinking – and-getting REAL HIGH!

Well, sometimes MY PLANS DO BACKFIRE, but – I’m-still-IN-LOVE-with-you!

I think I’m gonna start: “The Cheese Stick Girly Zoo!”

Maybe I can make a lot of money, and then I’ll settle down,

With lots of “ugly” brides! There-are-many-of-them-around!

But I’ll NEVER give them CHEESE, for it might make them SO-pr[i]etty,

That I-will-be ALONE AGAIN! without-no-arse – or [T] _ _ _ _ PITY?

fin <3

  • – from The Matrix films! Mr. Smith is played by Hugo Weaving!

American President Obama ~ singing President Obama of America

First walk on the Moon ~

“WALK ON THE MOON!” a poem 20 July 2019 (Saturday)

50 years? (to The Day) we-were- raising-moon-dust!
Quite-an-accomplishment! So, let’s “knock off some rust,”
And RETURN – to The-Glory-Daze, when we-happ’ly-jumped “lu-nar!”
LET’S RACE BACK TO THE MOON! You might get there sooner!

For, I love my “Moon Pie,” which is YOU, Honey Bunch!
And, I loved “Bit-o-Honey” and Nestle’s Chocolate Crunch,
And BIG HUNK (that’s me!) – longing to munch on your Snickers!
We can be choosers, not losers! and-sometimes even-pickers!

But I pick YOU, Sweetie-Pie – to-fly-away-with-me-to-The-Moon;
It’s a GOOD FIT – in your capsule, as-I hold-each-balloon!

Yeah, MOON-LANDING-might-have-been-“staged,” as some do suggest,
But WHO CARES!? It-was GREAT P. R. – it gave us [all] a rest,
From the terrors of war – and starvation – and dead-people-in-The-Electric-Chair!
I-think-it-might-be-nice-on-The-Moon-with-you – if-we-were warm-&-bare!

Yeah, THE MOON’s so romantic! Let’s fly-back-there right-away,
And we’ll start the human race again! It’ll be THE FIRST DAY,
Of the rest of our lives! AND THE ONLY PEOPLE WHO CAN CUMe,
Are the ones NOT critical, political or medical! We’ll-just-sing-all-day, and-strum!

We’ll-strum-on-finely tuned instruments, &, you-know, YOU LOOK LIKE MY CELLO!
And I love-your “Devil-May-Care-Attitude;” it’s so s – x – and mellow,
And, on the Moon, we won’t have to wear knickers – BUT! how-will-we-pee?
I-FORGOT! about: gravitational limitations? And – how will we be,

Able to breath? for – isn’t the air up there kind-of-thin?
And, how will we grow “crops?” No soil or water – Is-it-really “a win,”
To be UP on The Moon? Maybe, yeah – LET’S GO “HOME!”
It might be a better place ON THE EARTH-after-all, a better place to roam,

We can maybe WATCH RE-RUNS of “The Moon Walks” on TV,
Crunching candied popcorn – and Cherry Mashes – and Butterfingers with glee!
The Moon may be fine – to watch from “here below,”
But the candy companies are DOWN HERE, on-Planet-Earth, don’t-cha-know!

Bad experience makes any person dry reach at times, oh my goodness gracious me ~

“HEY, JESUS! YOU STINK! (NOTHING PERSONAL)!” a poem, a.k.a.: “Your Doctrines Too! THOSE ARE PAUL’S!” a.k.a.: “Jesus, Your Breath Stinks, You Have B. O. – And YOUR POO! Oo! (Pause) WELL, NO ONE’S PERFECT!” a.k.a.: “Accumulation!” a.k.a.: “We Just Stink!” a.k.a.: “Good Buddy, You Stink! That’s OK!” a.k.a.: “LOVE STINKS!” July 18, 2019 – Thursday!

PREPARATION: Thanks for reminding me, Baby – LIFE STINKS!

(That may be why people frequent bars, to-have lots o’ “smokes” and drinks!)

A man who can not deal with STENCH! better-lock-himself-in-His-Room,

Because THE WORLD SMELLS FUNNY! (sorta-like-a-tomb,

‘Cause it’s rotten and decaying, most days of the week,

Especially! when-we-take-a-poo – or – a-little leak!)

THANK GOODNESS there-are pheromones, that attract us to each other,

Or else WE-REALLY would have-to-KILL-each-sister-&-brother,

For our smells can cause such-great-of-fense or-make-a-person-“heave,”

Or-cause MY-LOVELY-WIFE to-o-simply [ πŸ™‚ – Oh, NO! ] LEAVE!!

THE MAIN EVENT: LIFE, truly-truly: is an-accumulation-of-SMELL!

Some are perceived as-“Heavenly;” some? straight-outta- H – L L!

What’s one person’s de-odorant – is-another’s: NON!! “cup-o’-tea!”

And, YES! some-people are-OK with-The-Smell-of-[their-swee’] Pee,

Or – POO-Poo, for, some-newborn-childrens’ mums and-dad,

Think “Little Joy’s” poo-poo – aught-t’-be -a-perfume-fad!

IF YOU “SOIL” YOUR CLOTHES – OR THE SEAT OF YOUR CAR,

You MAY “clean-it-up,” but – you’ll go just so far,

To REALLY eliminating THE ODOR OF LIFE!

(Pee-poo-sweat-‘n’-blood: It’s-just part-of-your-wife!)

You better hope – you REALLY love HER FLUIDS’ AROMA,

Or-else, you’re-liable-to-stop writing The-“Love-a-Poem-a,”

The-ONE – about-your-“Sweetie,” whom you might rather call,

Her (or Him) “Stinky,” but – lemme-say that ALL,

Of creation! ALL-OF-IT! even-EACH-mol-e-cule,

Has its distinct aroma, and I don’t mean to be cruel,

BUT EVEN A ROSE – HAS-THE-“POTENTIAL”-TO-SICKEN-YOU-IN-TIME!

(You might even think [that] this-poem – is A-MALODOROUS-CRIME!)

None-the-less, my blessing – for ALL OF YOU HERE:

“I wish you always love the smells of the ones you hold so dear,”

For, if NOT, LIFE STINKS! and – I know I do too,

I just hope my wife – will-be-tolerant with-all-my-foul-smelling-GOO!

fin <3

Post Age: Having-said-all-of-this, I-am-reminded-of-what-Jesus-said, before-He-left:

“YOU-GUYS-STINK, so I’m leaving!” and-They-said: “You’re ‘bad-breathed!’ “

And-The-Lord say-eth-ed: ” ‘Tain’t so!” They-said: “Just ask Mary!”

“O. M. G.,” said Jesus; “That’s-why She-gives-me-Luden’s,* lemon-or-cherry!”

With-that, The Lord Jesus – well, He-did-not-tarry!

He-took the-wife-and-kids-to-Indiana! (I think it was Gary!)

  • – cough drops! Yes, they had then even back then – manufactured by “Pontius’Pharmaceuticals,” a subsidiary of “The-Roman-Orgy!”

Missing You ~

“MISSING YOU!” a poem Friday, July 19, 2019

I SAY: “I MISS you,” but, of course, you’re-HERE-in-my-heart;

Yet, I STILL like to say IT, so you’ll know, you’re “a-part!”

“I REALLY MISS you!”-means: [I’m horny as a bull!]

“I MISS you, HONEY,” suggests: [I’m-really-not-quite-full,

MISSing your “sweet-leche,” to-fill me up real good];

My-head’s-caught-in-your-bosom, if-you-only-would,

Or – IN YOUR LAP! for-I-MISS-your-yummy-juice,

To-make-me feel: Wild! & quite-Loose,

And Free! &-Easy! Plus, Taunt! and-Firm!

I LOVE YOUR DISEASES, (pause) and-ev-ery germ!

“I-MISS you SO,” because I-want to-hold,

Your-hand, while-looking into-your-eyes, very-bold,

But-YOU KNOW-ME! I’m-just-a-MISS-ty, needy-man,

Who loves to be with YOU, you-who-has-a-plan,

To MISS – all sadness, yet-grab-a-bit-of-pain,

But MISSing-all-the-harsh-words! I-think-it’s-only-gain,

To be with-you, my MISSus, kissing you so sweet,

I-need lots-of-attention, so let’s “not MISS-a-beat!”

Our life is all-about: MISSing-you and-MISSing-me,

But-NEVER – MISSing-Love’s joy-ous-in-san-i-ty!

fin <3

Julian Assange ~ Australia

“FOR LOST FRIENDS!” a poem, a.k.a.: “Julian Assange Is/Was Right! IF YOU Are Going To Kill A Bunch of Folks, Shouldn’t We First Need To Have A Little Group Discussion, Especially If You Are Doing It In My Name?” a.k.a.: “STOP KILLING KENNY!”* a.k.a.: “Those Bastards Are Trying To Kill Kenny!” July 19, 2019 (Friday)

I simply DO-NOT RECALL, anyone asking ME,
If it’s OK “to knick” Dear “Nick,” [who lives] across The Sea!
IF-you-are-thinking-of-doing-this, ESPECIALLY IN “MY NAME,”
By golly, M – F ers,** BEFORE-YOU-DECIDE-TO-MAIM,
Or kill or make quite homeless, Potential Friends of mine,
You better, gosh-a-darn-it – drop-a-me-“a-line,”
And-OPEN, open-ly announce your gosh darn plan,
Or-else, you-turds-&-military-dudes, you’ve-something-coming-from-this-man:
IT’S-THAT Y O U’re-N O T-“AN-ISLAND,” for I am-sitting here,
WATCHING, as you torture-and-kill – ANTS?-that-I-might-hold-dear!
So, BEFORE you drop the poison – or-plug-up-their-home[s]-with-“ROCKS,”
Dropping from The Bloody Sky, just-know: turning-back-The-Clocks,
May-be, of course POSSIBLE! “in=The 4th or 5th Dimension,”
But – LET-ME-JUST-a-“LAY-IT-ON-THE-LINE” it’s TIME we-need-to-mention:

That: I, for one, THINK-[that]-GOVERNMENTS, who-think-they-can-PROSECUTE,
Anyone! THAT THEY DON’T LIKE – are-not-friggin’-acting-cute!
So, FOR THE RECORD – and-This-“up-your-nose,”
IT’S TIME TO-RELEASE-ASSANGE, because (in-charge) you should suppose, YOU M. F. er s WILL BE ANSWERING TO-ME! {IT’S-N O-THREAT, Jerks-&-Pompous-Arses, but-you-better-open-your-eyes-&-see, ‘Cause – IF-you-keep-this-up – AND YOU-HAVE! for-what-seems-like-FOREVER, I’M NOT! [gonna] torture-kill-or-starve-you but, I’ll-ruffle-EVERY-FEATHER, That-you-all-have upon-your-leprous-skin! I’ll ruffle – EVERY WHERE, And I’ll-banish your-arses – to-some-place NOT SO-“FAIR,” So-THINK-ABOUT-IT,* Mr. Illuminati, Mr. Dictator & Mr. Political Know-It-All,
But! I think I smell some “fresh air!” ARE YOU READY TO TAKE A FALL?!

fin <3

  • – and KENNY, by any other name, is just as sweet!
    ** – to include EVERY STINKING PERSON IN POWER, who THINKS they have some right to just decide the fate of whomever! Yes, Mr. Trump, look in the mirror!
    *** – SOMETIMES, so-called idiots and malcontents (Where’s a Benevolent Dictator when we need one?) are put in charge, right under the nose of The Ruling Party(ies)!
    **** – I KNOW you probably won’t, BUT – I don’t care! YOU’VE BEEN WARNED!

On this day 50 years ago, 20 July 1969 set foot on the moon

On this day 50 years ago, 20th July 1969 in (Australian) Neil Armstrong was the first man to set foot on the moon, A total of twelve men have landed on the Moon. This was accomplished with two US pilot-astronauts flying a Lunar Module on each of six NASA missions across a 41-month period starting on 20 July 1969 UTC, with Neil Armstrong and Buzz Aldrin on Apollo 11, and ending on 14 December 1972 UTC with Gene Cernan and Jack Schmitt on Apollo 17. Cernan was the last to step off the moon lunar surface.

All Apollo lunar missions had a third crew member who remained on board the Command Module. The last three missions had a rover for increased mobility.

  • My perfectly perfect Gal down under ~
    "BUNDLE OF JOY!" a poem, a.k.a.: "Perfect Preference!" July 21, 2019 (Sunday) A-man-I-know-begs – for long, straight-legs and Isaac's got "hips" on his mind, And some men want milk, from pendulous breasts, whereas some-simply-love: the-behind! There are all sorts of girls – and guys in The World, and preferences range high & low, But-each guy-&-gal … Read More
  • Ruhi Dagnanasar ~ Ganged Rapped ~ Australian News
    Ruhi Dagdanasar, 50 was sentenced to at least 16 years behind bars for kidnapping, drugging and gang raping an 18 year old girl. We at FACAA get a lot of stories of remorseless rapists but this guy and his mates are right up there with the worst ! To say they showed little remorse for … Read More
  • Oh my goodness me Roachy ~ Ran away πŸ€ͺ
    "THIS ONE'S FOR ED, WHO WAS BANISHED FROM THE REGION!" a poem Sunday: 21 July 2019 The council met LATE; dear old Ed missed the date! "We're concerned! Where is he, Mr. Roach?" "I don't know-and-I'm-concerned! Perhaps Ed just got burned, by The Poet, who's sometimes "a coach," &-will ex-cor-i-se – some of us, no … Read More
  • Baby Shower my Dreams ~
    "THE LAST CHEESE STICK YOU'LL EVER NEED!" a poem 21 July 2019 [SUN.] I'm SO IN LOVE WITH YOU, I gave you my LAST cheese stick! I-figured – it might be a substitute – for-my firm, throbbing LIPs! I gave you a reduced-fat mozzarella stick, so-as not-to-affect-your-hips, Which are curvy and delicious, and I really … Read More
  • Letter to my Husband ~
    What if your pillow could collect your dreams and when you wake up you plug it into your computer and watch them over again. https://youtu.be/TPqZs7Vl_xg I love you for trusting me with your heart and trusting me with your pride I love you for needing me by your side I love you for bring out … Read More

Truth ~ Dirty little bit of scandal

“TRUTH?” a poem July 16, 2019 (Tuesday)

“If I-am to trust you, I-WANT ABSOLUTE-TRUTH,

‘The-Truth, yes, The-Whole-Truth!’ ” said-John-W.-Booth!!

“I NEED-always-to-know, I-can de-pend-upon-you,

So THE TRUTH, yes, The WHOLE Truth -I’ll-expect-YOU TO-DO!”

“OK!” [from-Honest-Abe!] “But-WAIT! Are-you-sure?

For, sometimes – THE TRUTH! it-may-be a-blur!”

“Well, the truth-is:-I-DON’T-TRUST-YOU!” so-John shot-Him-one-night,

But he REALLY-JUST-DIDN’T-TRUST-HIMSELF! It’s hard, without-light!

“Tell-THE-TRUTH,” said my-Lady;

“And-I-don’-want – no MAY-BEE,

Because, my-Honey-Man, I-KNOW-you-can-do-i[ee]t,

Plus, If-you-don’t, I-will-throw-me-a-fi(ee)t!”

“ALWAYS – The TRUTH!?” (Whatever THAT is!)

Always-tellin’-The-Truth? “Well – (you-KNOW!) That’s HIS,

Responsibility!” YES! All-The-Ladies-a-GREED!

“TRUTH? TRUTH! So, as-to-NOT-impede,

THE PROGRESS, Some – progress – that-The-TRUTH-will-provide!”

THIS IS WHERE A L L THE MEN – NEED TO RUN-AWAY AND HIDE,

When they hear: “We want A-PROMISE – of TRUTH – all the time!!”

“It-t’ain’t-possible!” say-eth The Lord – Of -The-“Realistic-Rhyme!”

fin <3

Postnote! In fact, TOTAL TRUTH – has-always-been a myth* and-a-fable,

NO ONE HAS SUCH FACILITY! It’s TRUE! No one’s able!

Beside[s]! (This is TRUE!) IF YOU NEVER LIE – SOME OF THE TIME,

YOUR NOSE SHRIVELS UP – TO THE SIZE OF A DIME!

And-oft’ to save lives, feelings [from getting hurt] & just plain To-Save-Your-Marriage,

You GOTTA LIE! Who-HANDLES THE TRUTH? Let’s ride in my carriage,

And-realize: If total TRUTH was The Standard, NO ONE WOULD BE MARRIED!

And ALL MEN – would-be-nervous-wrecks, ’cause-they’d-be-so-awf’lly-harried!

So, GOD, in Her Wisdom, devised “The White Lie,”

So, come-on-now, Sports’ Fans, get out there and: FIB! (I mean: cry! or die! or LIE!**)

  • – https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qzMfzPFcvJU

** – or is that LAY? lay or lie gently, next to HER – and stroke HER hair – or something!

Tell-her you love her! You DO, you know! Your life would be a shambles without her! It would be, you know! Just a shambles! Be a man! Eat a sandwich! Curse a little! Kiss a dog! Pet a cat; go-on, stroke that pussy! Send President Trump “a tweet!” OK?

“THE ART OF LIVING!”~ MYSTIC POET πŸ‘‘

“THE ART OF LIVING!” a poem, a.k.a.: “You Are Your Own Magic Wand!” a.k.a.: “The Joy of Self-Acceptance!” Tuesday, April 16, 2019

We-all-want-to-MAKE-A-[LITTLE]-DIFFERENCE, to-be counted (a little) real,
Worth “something or other,” and acceptance-would-be-a-great-deal!
Kind-of like this paper plate I’m writing on (that could-have-been thrown away),
But here it is, used and needed! with ink and verse! “Hooray!”

Like the plate, wouldn’t-we relish [the idea of] being “saved” forevermore?*
Sure, for we LOVE the thought of us with value; it warms us “to the core!”

Like, when you were a little girl, your Daddy kissed-you-on the cheek,
Declaring-you his “Little Angel” and-that-you-would-NEVER-have-to-seek,
A REASON FOR YOU, for: “You’re of such value to me;
I love you so much, I do, and you give-me-ecstasy!
When I look in your eyes, I-see PURE LOVE;
When you hold my hand, I-feel – way above,
Anyone else in The World today!
Just you’re being with me – means-more than I can say!
Just you’re existence – gives mine value too!
I’ll ALWAYS LOVE YOU, and, Honey,
Love is what is true!

Until the end of time – and far beyond;
You’re my magic, little angel, with your special, magic wand!”

fin <3

    • The principle theme and hope of most religions!

  • My perfectly perfect Gal down under ~
    "BUNDLE OF JOY!" a poem, a.k.a.: "Perfect Preference!" July 21, 2019 (Sunday) A-man-I-know-begs – for long, straight-legs and Isaac's got "hips" on his mind, And some men want milk, from pendulous breasts, whereas some-simply-love: the-behind! There are all sorts of girls – and guys in The World, and preferences range high & low, But-each guy-&-gal … Read More
  • Ruhi Dagnanasar ~ Ganged Rapped ~ Australian News
    Ruhi Dagdanasar, 50 was sentenced to at least 16 years behind bars for kidnapping, drugging and gang raping an 18 year old girl. We at FACAA get a lot of stories of remorseless rapists but this guy and his mates are right up there with the worst ! To say they showed little remorse for … Read More
  • Oh my goodness me Roachy ~ Ran away πŸ€ͺ
    "THIS ONE'S FOR ED, WHO WAS BANISHED FROM THE REGION!" a poem Sunday: 21 July 2019 The council met LATE; dear old Ed missed the date! "We're concerned! Where is he, Mr. Roach?" "I don't know-and-I'm-concerned! Perhaps Ed just got burned, by The Poet, who's sometimes "a coach," &-will ex-cor-i-se – some of us, no … Read More
  • Baby Shower my Dreams ~
    "THE LAST CHEESE STICK YOU'LL EVER NEED!" a poem 21 July 2019 [SUN.] I'm SO IN LOVE WITH YOU, I gave you my LAST cheese stick! I-figured – it might be a substitute – for-my firm, throbbing LIPs! I gave you a reduced-fat mozzarella stick, so-as not-to-affect-your-hips, Which are curvy and delicious, and I really … Read More
  • Letter to my Husband ~
    What if your pillow could collect your dreams and when you wake up you plug it into your computer and watch them over again. https://youtu.be/TPqZs7Vl_xg I love you for trusting me with your heart and trusting me with your pride I love you for needing me by your side I love you for bring out … Read More

KINDNESS ~ Humanity

BE GOOD TO YOUR ENEMIES

Long ago, there lived a little boy named Sammy. He was a good boy. He was good in his studies, obedient to his parents, more intelligent than many other boys in his class and kind to everyone. Grown-ups as well as those junior to Sammy loved him very much. But that aroused jealousy in many other boys who longed to be as loved as Sammy.

Now there was another boy named Timmy who studied in the same class as Sammy. Unlike Sammy, he was not good at studies and always liked to play during school hours. He misbehaved with his parents, bullied his classmates and even ill-treated Sammy. He always tried to put Sammy down and belittled him before other kids in the class. But no matter what he did, Sammy’s grades kept getting better and better. Whether in studies or in sports or from his classmates, Sammy kept getting accolades from everywhere.

On his eighth birthday, Sammy got a nice pen as a gift from his parents. He brought it to school so that he could use it to take down the notes of the lectures that the teachers gave in class. This was a very beautiful pen and it could help one write very fast. When Timmy saw it, he was very jealous of Sammy. He asked Sammy,

“Hey, where did you get that? Did you buy it?”

“My parents gave it as a birthday gift to me.” replied Sammy.

Timmy was overwhelmed with anger and jealousy. The bad boy that he was, he rarely got any present from his parents. He decided to steal Sammy’s pen. During recess, when everyone had gone out from the class, Timmy opened Sammy’s bag and took out his pen. Then he hid it inside his bag and went out to have his tiffin.

When Sammy came back and could not find his pen, he informed his class teacher about it. There was a hunt for the missing pen and the class teacher ordered the class monitor to search the bag of every children inside the class. The missing pen was soon found out of Timmy’s bag and the furious teacher asked the errant boy,

“Now Timmy, what do you have to say about it?”

Timmy was in tears. He had nothing to say.

When Sammy saw Timmy cry, he took pity on the boy. The kind boy that he was, he had no ill-feeling against his classmate. He requested his class teacher not to take any action against Timmy, now that his stolen pen was found.

This opened Timmy’s eyes. He could now see what a good boy Sammy was. He asked for forgiveness from his teacher and Sammy. From that day, he became friends with Sammy and gradually changed himself to be as good as Sammy. Everyone began to love Timmy and Sammy was proud of his new friend.

Despite being hurt by Timmy, Sammy gave him back only love in return. This is how we should also treat our enemies. Who knows? One day, our behaviour may just change themselves for the better.

Moral: Do not harm someone even if he harms you. Be good to all.

*****

Once upon a time, there lived a farmer who had a little land. His name was Tuan and he was a very kind and good-natured person. He lived in a hut on his land with his wife and children and earned by selling whatever crops he could produce on his small land.

Tuan loved to help others. Whenever someone fell ill or needed something badly, Tuan was there to help that person. If someone died in the village, Tuan assisted the family members of the deceased person in whichever way he could. If anyone fell ill at night, Tuan was right beside the village doctor to help him prepare the medicines and tend to the sick. There seemed to be none who hated this man. He appeared to be loved by one and all.

But there was one person who hated Tuan with all his heart. He was Juan, a neighbour of Tuan, who lived in the land next to him. A lazy person by nature, Juan hardly put in as much effort to cultivate his land as Tuan did to produce crops in his own. So when the harvest season arrived every year, Juan found that he had very few crops to sell. Tuan on the other hand, earned a handsome profit through the selling of his produces.

One year, Juan could no longer contain his jealousy. Just days before Tuan was to reap his harvest, Juan set fire to his crops at night. Tuan was asleep at this time and it was only the alertness of one of his other neighbours that saved much of his crops from being perished in the deadly flames of the fire that Juan had lighted.

When the flames were doused, Tuan saw which direction the fire had started from. Juan’s animosity towards him was unknown to Tuan. But he let the matters rest and decided to take action only if he saw Juan repeating his dastardly act once again.

That year, Tuan managed to sell the rest of his crops at a good price but he could not make much profit for a good part of his produces had been burnt. He had a heavy heart but he did not like to tell anyone about it.

Only days later, Tuan was awakened by the sound of lamentations. He went out to find a crowd beside Juan’s hut. He rushed to find that Juan’s son had fallen ill. He found that the village doctor was unable to provide a cure to his illness. Tuan knew what he had to do. He untied his own horse and rode it. Then he rushed to the town that was ten miles away and fetched a more experienced doctor who lived there.

This doctor was able to guess the disease correctly and provided an exact cure for it. Within hours, the boy was found to sleep soundly and Tuan went with the doctor to take him back to the town.

A day later, Juan went to Tuan’s hut and began to weep bitterly. He confessed to his sins but was surprised when Tuan told him that he knew about it all.

“You knew that I had set fire to your crops? And still you fetched the doctor for my son?” asked the astonished Juan.

Tuan nodded and said, “I did what I knew was right. Could I do wrong just because you had done so?”

Juan stood up and embraced Tuan. Both men were in tears and so were the others who stood by them.

From that day, Juan changed himself. Within a year, he could produce much crops in his land through his hard work. When the others asked him how he had changed so much, he only replied,

“It was the goodness and love of Tuan that transformed me.”

Moral: Be nice to your friends. Be nicer to your enemies.

*****

Many many years ago, there lived a dog named Tom. Tom was adopted as a pet in a wealthy household and he was daily showered with nice foods and affections by her mistress Mrs Havisham. All day, Tom lived in a kennel within the compound of the house and he tried his best to guard the home of his mistress. Whenever a thief or a burgler came within the vicinity, Tom would bark as loudly as he could to scare the living daylights out of the culprit. He was the favourite of his mistress. When night fell, he slept on a nice blanket inside his kennel and when day broke he had his food served before him in no time.

But the neighbourhood dogs were not so lucky and they were jealous of Tom’s fortune. Now and then, they would bark from outside the gates of Tom’s house and utter curses at him. All this disturbed Tom a little, but he would only say,

“Poor fellows, they have to struggle so much for their food while I am so lucky. I must not shout at them and add to their misery.”

So he kept quiet and went about his business, turning a deaf ear to their insults.

One day, as he was taking a walk with his mistress, Tom found that some young boys were throwing stones at those same dogs who insulted him. The dogs were cornered and they had nowhere to go. They could in no way avoid being hit by the stones thrown at them. Many of them were bleeding and barking feebly in protest. But the boys were not in a mood to let go of them so lightly. They picked up bigger stones and rocks to have more fun at the expense of the weak, helpless dogs.

Tom could not hold himself back. He was of a strong build and had a very deep voice. He knew that he could scare the boys. He managed to wrench his leash free out of his mistress’ hands and he ran towards the boys.

The boys were startled at the terrible barking that Tom directed at them. Their blood froze at the sight of the huge Tom baring his fangs and running towards them. They dropped their rocks and ran away as fast as their legs could carry them.

“Go home” Tom said to his bloodied abusers “no one will disturb you anymore.”

He ran back to his mistress who had seen all that Tom did. She patted Tom and praised him for his courage.

That night, Tom’s mistress saw a strange sight. The dogs whom Tom had saved in the morning had gathered near the gates of her house. It seemed to her as if they were telling something to her pet.

“Maybe they are thanking Tom for his brave gesture.” she thought.

And right she was! From that day, Tom and his abusers had become friends. Tom’s kindness had won over his abusers’ hatred and he had earned their love, respect and admiration that nothing on earth could buy.

Moral: Be good to all, even if they happen to be your enemies.

  • Lori Lakin HutchersonΒ wrote this article for Good Black News. Lori is the editor-in-chief at GBN.Β ~ Humanity
    My White Friend Asked Me on Facebook to Explain White Privilege. I Decided to Be HonestHe wanted to know how institutional racism has made an impact on my life. I’m glad he asked, because I was ready to answer. Most of what I share below is mild compared to what others in my family and … Read More
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    BE GOOD TO YOUR ENEMIES Long ago, there lived a little boy named Sammy. He was a good boy. He was good in his studies, obedient to his parents, more intelligent than many other boys in his class and kind to everyone. Grown-ups as well as those junior to Sammy loved him very much. But … Read More
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    Slipping away from life What is it about life, one moment you believe the journey meant something. Then along comes that time when it crashes around you. The realisation of hurting is just to intense as you stop breathing cause you're hurting with a broken soul. Like shattered glass cutting deep, suddenly you can see … Read More

Expectations ~ USA

“EXPECTATIONS 101!” a poem July 18, 2019 (Thursday)

Sadam Hussein wasn’t insane, or-at-least-not-as-much-as-me,

For he always looked forward to wonderful things, like-beheadings, [over]-by-the-sea!*

“I-expect-always: THE-WORST, [and]-therefore, what I-get,

Is something PRETTY GREAT!” Well-Hussein-it’s-a-good-bet:

THAT NOBODY KNOWS-REALLY WHAT-IS-THE-WORST;”

We-THINK “BAAAD”-is-The-Worst, so This-Bubble, let’s-burst!

Arguably, THE WORST OF-ALL is “TERRIFYING?-OBLIVION,”

But-not-like-in-The-Movies, Dears! That’s-just-so: “ple-bi-an,”

Or “juvenile!” “ludicrous!” or-just-plain-“Holly-wood!”

A SAD-FLICK-CAN-ONLY JUST-BE-SAD! I-wonder IF-we-could,

Even-grasp that-OBLIVION’S NOTHING-even-at-all;

It’s NOT EVEN a speck-of-sand on The Plainest Wall!

It’s-not-even a-speck reflecting itself,

Or-a barren landscape, with-a-wee, silly-elf,

All alone by-its-lonesome! Crying-lonely-and-sad,

For: AS LONG AS THERE’S ANY-THING! IT’S-NOT -“ABSOLUTE -BAD!”

It CAN’T-BE-“the-worst,” un-til-NOTHING-remains!!!!!!**

“Something’s-ALWAYS-“good,” even with pains!

For, PAINS are something, BUT-[GO-AHEAD!] Make-your-strate[d]gy,

To EXPECT-THE-WORST, but-the-only-tra[d]gedy –

Is NOTHING! Nothing! That is “Bot[d]-[d]TOM,”***

Or-“Top,” but-who’ll-know-it ? It-won’t-be-SA -DAM!

fin <3

  • – The Persian Gulf, next to Iraq – part of The Arabian Sea!

** – See you can not EVEN describe it because, of course, NOTHING ever remains, for there are no “remains” to NOTHING! See!? It’s a bunch of words, with no meaning!

*** – BUT! Nothing has neither top nor bottom! See how ridiculous this all is! and – how ridiculous I AM – or even that “someone” “appears to be” considering it. “ALL IS FOLLY!” Ecclesiastes 1:14! (which suggests that EVEN THE BIBLE is FOLLY, or vanity! It is ALL BOGUS!) https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_Uz7I9g9ymY

**** – or ANYONE (NOT EVEN “GOD!”) Without US, Whatever God IS – has nothing to experience anything with! πŸ™‚ – https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=N9iPQneaD20

So Precious ~ love story

“LOVE CAN!” a poem for Thor’s Day, July 18, 2019

LOVE CAN MAKE A CESSPOOL CLEAN!

It’s-“the-strangest-thing you’ve ever seen,

When: WHAT-(BEFORE) WAS-NOT-VERY-WELL,

Certainly-NOT “Heaven!” IT-WAS just plain-H – L L,

Is NOW – filled with color – and sweet smells, all right!

And-you-wanna-sleep-with-IT, [ ’cause] It-feels -“outta-sight!”

You wanna HOLD IT! and STROKE IT! This (previously) HORRIFIC THING!

LOVE!

It-can-make-Those-Wedding-Bells,

START-TO-RING!

fin <3

How beautiful 🎁

Stroke yourself, life is just an experiment ~

“I HURT AND JUST WANT SOMETHING TO HELP!” a poem a.k.a.: “Just Smile And Stroke It!” 17 July 2019 (WEDNESDAY)

Life’s AN EXPERIMENT! to: Find Relief,

From: Boredom!-Pain!-Uncertainty! and-especially BELIEF!

I’m BORED! [so] Stimulate me!!!

I-hurt! A: Then-seek-a-medical-com-mun-i-ty!

I-still-hurt! [So, I-wanna-make-someone-else-hurt!!!!]

I-don’t-KNOW! A: Then-learn! and-YOU’LL-PROBABLY?-BLURT,

OUT-“THE-TRUTH,” which-is-just repeating what-you-heard!

My Beliefs!! They-keep-me-from-flying [away] like-a-bird!

I-wanna-ESCAPE! (Is that all right?)

I need a change! I-need to-“see The Light!”

THIS HURTS! THAT HURTS! What-hurts? and WHY?

EVERYONE! (inside) or OUT – is-just-having-a-cry

So-much-pain! MENTAL! and “in?-the-body!”

Well, we’re-JUST “SEPARATED!”

So, sit-on-The-Potty,

And – Let is all go, so it’s out-in-front-of-you,

Now, grasp-it!

Love-it!

Look-at-it! It’s TRUE:

It ain’t all-that-bad! (pause)

Just-don’t HIT-at-IT!

You-can-just-smile – and stroke-IT!

Right where you sit!

fin <3

Sometimes you don’t understand why people feel unable to cope
Maybe if you really care to listen to why or what a broken soul is behind those eyes
You may listen to what is behind those sad thoughts.
Is it really what they say or how they say it.
Never take a life for granted and say ”get over it” cause that little phrase just may push someone to the brink of despair.
Respect those personal feelings, don’t push them with questions that the will not disclose about themselves. Don’t invade personal space, tread softly. When someone trusts you never make light of their circumstances. Feeling stuck in a Box, drowning beyond all reasonable outcomes never overcomes their personal grief.
#BrokenSoul @
  • Ruhi Dagnanasar ~ Ganged Rapped ~ Australian News
    Ruhi Dagdanasar, 50 was sentenced to at least 16 years behind bars for kidnapping, drugging and gang raping an 18 year old girl. We at FACAA get a lot of stories of remorseless rapists but this guy and his mates are right up there with the worst ! To say they showed little remorse for … Read More
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    Take a little box now. Put all your dreams inside All of them will come true. I’d never let them die But promise me just one thing. You’d never leave my side Make me a part of your dreams. That’s where I want to lie I can promise you one thing No matter what we … Read More

Australian We Are a Proud Nation

We boast no more of our bloodless flag, that rose from a nation’s slime;

Better a shred of a deep-dyed rag from the storms of the olden time.

From grander clouds in our `peaceful skies’ than ever were there before

I tell you the Star of the South shall rise — in the lurid clouds of war.

It ever must be while blood is warm and the sons of men increase;

For ever the nations rose in storm, to rot in a deadly peace.

There comes a point that we will not yield, no matter if right or wrong,

And man will fight on the battle-field

while passion and pride are strong —

So long as he will not kiss the rod, and his stubborn spirit sours,

And the scorn of Nature and curse of God are heavy on peace like ours.

. . . . .

There are boys out there by the western creeks, who hurry away from school

To climb the sides of the breezy peaks or dive in the shaded pool,

Who’ll stick to their guns when the mountains quake

to the tread of a mighty war,

And fight for Right or a Grand Mistake as men never fought before;

When the peaks are scarred and the sea-walls crack

till the furthest hills vibrate,

And the world for a while goes rolling back in a storm of love and hate.

. . . . .

There are boys to-day in the city slum and the home of wealth and pride

Who’ll have one home when the storm is come, and fight for it side by side,

Who’ll hold the cliffs ‘gainst the armoured hells

that batter a coastal town,

Or grimly die in a hail of shells when the walls come crashing down.

And many a pink-white baby girl, the queen of her home to-day,

Shall see the wings of the tempest whirl the mist of our dawn away —

Shall live to shudder and stop her ears to the thud of the distant gun,

And know the sorrow that has no tears when a battle is lost and won, —

As a mother or wife in the years to come, will kneel, wild-eyed and white,

And pray to God in her darkened home for the `men in the fort to-night’.

. . . . .

But, oh! if the cavalry charge again as they did when the world was wide,

‘Twill be grand in the ranks of a thousand men

in that glorious race to ride

And strike for all that is true and strong,

for all that is grand and brave,

And all that ever shall be, so long as man has a soul to save.

He must lift the saddle, and close his `wings’, and shut his angels out,

And steel his heart for the end of things,

who’d ride with a stockman scout,

When the race they ride on the battle track, and the waning distance hums,

And the shelled sky shrieks or the rifles crack

like stockwhip amongst the gums —

And the `straight’ is reached and the field is `gapped’

and the hoof-torn sward grows red

With the blood of those who are handicapped with iron and steel and lead;

And the gaps are filled, though unseen by eyes,

with the spirit and with the shades

Of the world-wide rebel dead who’ll rise and rush with the Bush Brigades.

All creeds and trades will have soldiers there —

give every class its due —

And there’ll be many a clerk to spare for the pride of the jackeroo.

They’ll fight for honour and fight for love, and a few will fight for gold,

For the devil below and for God above, as our fathers fought of old;

And some half-blind with exultant tears, and some stiff-lipped, stern-eyed,

For the pride of a thousand after-years and the old eternal pride;

The soul of the world they will feel and see

in the chase and the grim retreat —

They’ll know the glory of victory — and the grandeur of defeat.

The South will wake to a mighty change ere a hundred years are done

With arsenals west of the mountain range and every spur its gun.

And many a rickety son of a gun, on the tides of the future tossed,

Will tell how battles were really won that History says were lost,

Will trace the field with his pipe, and shirk

the facts that are hard to explain,

As grey old mates of the diggings work the old ground over again —

How `this was our centre, and this a redoubt,

and that was a scrub in the rear,

And this was the point where the guards held out,

and the enemy’s lines were here.’

. . . . .

They’ll tell the tales of the nights before

and the tales of the ship and fort

Till the sons of Australia take to war as their fathers took to sport,

Their breath come deep and their eyes grow bright

at the tales of our chivalry,

And every boy will want to fight, no matter what cause it be —

When the children run to the doors and cry:

`Oh, mother, the troops are come!’

And every heart in the town leaps high at the first loud thud of the drum.

They’ll know, apart from its mystic charm, what music is at last,

When, proud as a boy with a broken arm, the regiment marches past.

And the veriest wreck in the drink-fiend’s clutch,

no matter how low or mean,

Will feel, when he hears the march, a touch

of the man that he might have been.

And fools, when the fiends of war are out and the city skies aflame,

Will have something better to talk about than an absent woman’s shame,

Will have something nobler to do by far than jest at a friend’s expense,

Or blacken a name in a public bar or over a backyard fence.

And this you learn from the libelled past,

though its methods were somewhat rude —

A nation’s born where the shells fall fast, or its lease of life renewed.

We in part atone for the ghoulish strife,

and the crimes of the peace we boast,

And the better part of a people’s life in the storm comes uppermost.

The self-same spirit that drives the man to the depths of drink and crime

Will do the deeds in the heroes’ van that live till the end of time.

The living death in the lonely bush, the greed of the selfish town,

And even the creed of the outlawed push is chivalry — upside down.

‘Twill be while ever our blood is hot, while ever the world goes wrong,

The nations rise in a war, to rot in a peace that lasts too long.

And southern nation and southern state, aroused from their dream of ease,

Must sign in the Book of Eternal Fate their stormy histories.