Fa – the Green Dragon

A Place for the Odd Musings of an Expat Bristolian


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Synaethesia

following an accident some years ago in which I sustained a traumatic brain injury, I still have occasional occurrences of this weird sensation. Sometimes the trigger is different but the sensation I experience is always the same. So I wrote this Haiku style poem to express my thoughts. Red refers to color not anger. The wires it seems in my brain are crossed. Does anyone one know a telephone repair person?

 

SYNAESTHESIA

 

Seeing red I smell

Sweet roasted nut confections

My brain is jumbled


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SwampKing Fool

SWAMPKING FOOL

 

 

SwampKing Donald is a juvenile fool

And a narcissist fool is he

He called or the mole and he upped his hype

And he called for his liars three

 

Conway, Spicer and Mr. Page

All responded to the call

They told him Donald now get ready

You’re headed for a fall.

 

Said swampking Donald all I really want to know

Who is leaking all the stuff?

Don’t they understand that to tell the truth?

Simply makes the going tough.

 

I know eleven million is a huge weekly expense

But I don’t make the deals, blame it on Mike Pence.

The Secret Service loves me I think they are fine

But I am the POTUS so I don’t need to toe the line

 

I do not like Camp David it’s not my idea of fun

I prefer my Mar a Lago in the Florida Sun.

Without my weekly dose of sun I have to use the spray

The bottle says it’s Coppertone But it’s orange they all say.

 

Swampking Donald’s job is tough something he had not reckoned

The GOP is party first, the country comes in second

His plan to make America great again has no place at all

The principle will lie buried beneath his shameful wall.

 

Swampking Donald is very proud to be the Armed Forces C-in-C

But a rightwing Bannon puppet is all that he will be.

David Horowitz is his mentor, a huge amount of work

Especially when mentoring someone who is berserk

 

Mad as a hatter and a schoolyard bully to boot

To hell with tact and protocol he doesn’t give a hoot

What led to all his madness nothing has been said

Maybe his mother dropped him as a baby on his head

 

Some Northern states have lakes

Complete with native Loons

Swampking Donald’s asylum

Is staffed with hapless goons

 

Enough, enough I’ve had my say

I’ll put my pencil down

And think about tomorrow

And what I’ll write about this clown.


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Camp Chaos

CAMP CHAOS

 

To preserve my waning sanity, I took a little break

To sort out what news is true and which of it is fake.

The goings-on at Camp Chaos are running full amok

Even the inner sanctum it seems are learning how to duck

 

Sessions knows the truth and has himself recused

From looking into matters of which Trumpty’s been accused

The whole lot lie, like  a rug upon the floor

No real news we hear just lies and lies galore

 

“I don’t know” “I can’t recall” “much more I cannot say”

All of them it seems are in SwampKing Donald’s pay

It seems like SwampKing Donald flew into a rage

When his staffers told him, he’s on a different page.

 

Bannon threw his arms up, poking at the air

While Spicer and Ms. Conway alternative facts did share.

Trump Tower wires were tapped is Trumpty’s latest tweeting

Completely unsupported to distract from Russian meetings

 

Swampking Donald’s madness is like that of George the third

But George he was quite cuckoo and Trumpty’s just absurd.

Thinks that he can govern by Executive Order alone

What he needs is leadership to really set the tone.

 

He’s made us just a laughing stock; kids snicker they’re not fools

They dread the wealthy moron he put in charge of all our schools.

He wants to get more nukes and planes and ships as well

SALT treaty be damned, he’ll lead us all to hell

 

He thrives on megalomania a big dose every day

And sycophantic yes-men who round him like to play

They can’t stand up to Trumpty and tell him he’s not cool

They’ll all stand by in silence while he acts just like a fool

 

He likes to go to Florida each weekend just to play

The Eleven million that it costs, we taxpayers have to pay

Some say he spent already what took Obama seven years to do

Bestowing his largesse upon his favorite few

 

They are mostly family, to us a huge expense

You wouldn’t mind so much If Trumpty made some sense.

Last weekend he had to go, go there all alone

The only things he likes to pack, his phone and orange comb

 

Oh! And don’t forget the glue that keeps his wig on straight

He saves his old toupees they say to use as fishing bait

He likes to golf in Florida and hit those little balls

It’s his escape from governing between his business calls.

 

I still don’t understand what his followers hope to gain

Have they not yet realized the man his quite insane

He has no self-control and lives in fantasy

Tweeting out old news he’s seen on channel three

 

He does not stick to facts; relies on tabloid news

He loves when he finds something that he can use

It does not matter if it’s old or from another year

He tweets it out, a constant stream like he’s chugging beer.

 

Ah well enough! My hair is turning grey.

I’ll have to take another rest though I have much more to say

I guess I won’t be finished until Trumpty’s done and gone

Perhaps he’ll be impeached for such a massive con.


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Asian Fare

Asian Fare

I like Chinese food he said
Why’s that? He was asked
It’s got a taste, but I can’t declare
The flavour sometimes masked.

Allow me then to take you,
On a little tour
We’ll begin perhaps with India
And then Japan for more.

Refrigeration is paramount
To keep food fresh and nice
But when it gets to a certain point
You have to use some spice.

Garam Masala’s good and hot
And so is Madras curry
Important though that when you cook
Do it slowly, do not hurry.

Koreans like to pickle
And of course they serve with rice
Kim-chi is a favorite dish
But not like bread to slice

It’s hot and spicy and then fermented
Exotic food that they invented
To use the cabbages that they grow
Fields and fields, row after row

Viet-Nam has Pho, a tasty noodle soup
With chicken that comes straight from the coop
And then there’s China and its cuisine
Strange snake bile soup and owl spleen

Of course Chinese pepper has a fragrant smell
Makes many dishes go down really  well
Especially when served with rice
Brings the taste to twice as nice

After China there’s Japan
Cultural creations made by man
Kaiseki, Japan’s most expensive eats
Carefully made artistic feasts

But being honest, you have a choice
Drive through a Subway and with your voice
Speak to an electronic clown
It will take your order down

And deliver it at window number two
Their creation will be made just for you.
Enjoy your sandwich, lunchtime fare
Often made with Asian care.


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The Farm

THE FARM
There’s a farm atop that yonder hill
An old man plies his labours still
There’s grass enough for cows to graze
And crops he tends like beans and maize

He ploughed the sod when it was new
And in its clearing, trees he hew
He settled there before the road
Before cars were a transport mode

Horses and wagons ruled back then
His eggs fresh daily from a hen
Now alas, farms are fading fast
Dim reminders of our past.

When armed with scythes upon the mow
Our wheat was cut and with a bow
The sheaves were tied with the harvest knot
And food was cooked in an iron pot.

Nowadays if by chance a farm you find
It’s probably the corporate kind
There are no people going to and fro
Just machines that make it go

There are no farmers on the land
No more cow-men close at hand
And farmers’ wives are long-gone too
A dying kind, it’s sad but true.


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The Skiers

More painting effort from therapy days.

 

THE SKIERS

Two skiers unaware they have been seen

Downhill skiing, what a scene!

Snow fresh fallen clean and bright

It fell in silence through the night.

And now two skiers get the thrill

Of racing downwards down the hill

To where they heard two bottles lie

Like Mana fallen from the sky

In a cooler so they won’t freeze

The very thought a pleasing tease

A race towards the finish

Where soon they’ll sit and relish

A perfect close to a perfect day

A refreshing bottle of IPA!

 


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The Island Light

I painted this as part of my occupational therapy following an accident in my garden.lighthouse

 

THE ISLAND LIGHT

The Island light stands firm and strong

In all weather rough and raw

And even when a gale would blow

The light you always saw

 

Shining brightly lighting your way home

Beneath a fog-filled view

Spreading beams of welcome

Its prismatic light for you.

 

For ocean going cargo ships

And small sailing craft as well

The turning light a beacon

That would of safety tell

 

And so toward the light

Beneath a harvest moon

In calm water and fine weather

We’d be at home quite soon.


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A short love story

If you lived to be a hundred, I want to live to be a hundred minus one day, so I never have to live without you.

Winnie the Pooh  by A.A. Milne