Fa – the Green Dragon

A Place for the Odd Musings of an Expat Bristolian


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.



Way Back Then

A short story in Haiku style
My first memory.
Jan C. Smuts Home for Children
In Burnham-on-Sea.

Breakfast with some kids.
Walking to the beach lighthouse.
Breathing damp sea air.

Big people took me
to live with as family.
I had siblings now.

We had dogs and cats
And we had a garden too.
I was happy there.

Then I had an urge
The wide world called me to leave
Look where it brought me.

I found new friendships
Bloggers using words galore.
Thank you one and all.

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I have been away for the last 14 days

Actually, I have not left my house! Some years ago, my step-son asked if he could use the garage to fix cars with a friend. After a quick mental check of the pros and cons, I agreed. Well I figured, the two boys will be at home (mostly) where they could not be up to mischief or getting into trouble.

So,  fix cars they did; mostly their cars making them lower to the ground, noisier, leaner(not cleaner) and highly decorated with stripes, checkered-designs and multiple wire-caged headlights and spot lamps. This lasted for only about 3 weeks and I never saw any of their cars in the garage ever again.

What I did se however, were bare walls. Literally every tool that I owned was either on the workbench or on the floor of the garage. Sundry bottles and cans of anti-freeze, transmission fluids, engine oil, brake cleaner, WD-40  (the list goes on) was there too. There were pans, cans and boxes with auto-parts, nuts and bolts, washers etc.

Even though I asked nicely(at first) then more sternly and eventually to the point of pleading; there the mess stayed for at least two years.

Needing the garage space to park my own car, I eventually moved everything to one side figuring that I would have to sort out the mess myself.  

By now, you dear reader will have guessed where I have been. And, I might add, I am still not finished. But today I decided on a day off from the garage.

Tomorrow I will recall the words of Shakespeare: Once more into the breach dear friends, once more and fill that hole with our English dead.