Peggy

 


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First snow Jan. 16, 2024

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      We got our first legitimate snow storm after nearly two years. This is not the first time we went through several years with rain instead of snow, but whackos are painting it as significant because they need to keep harping on the illusion of climate change. As we speak, the weather people (apparently not satisfied with the two to four inches we got) are selling us on another snow storm we can expect to hit on Thursday. When it rains it pours, as the old cliché goes. For some reason, I don’t quite feel the usual pang of delight at the first snow storm, perhaps because so many people are using this to sell agendas I don’t agree with. I look out the front window at the street and the people spreading salt on their walks because the accumulation is too little to shovel. The city’s salt spreaders have come down our street several times already, even though the salt from its earlier passings hasn’t vanished and the snow has not accumulated on the asphalt, o...
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Paper radicals April 14, 2024

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   We live on the verge of self-annihilation And still sing songs promoting peace Or appeasement, Blaming everybody but ourselves, While whacko Jane Fondas Rant about racist climate change While basking in the lap of luxury, Never changing, Paper radicals ranting about What the rest of us ought to do While doing something else themselves We, sitting on the edge of global war, While spoiled children rant on campus About unjust life is About diversity that is not diverse, About gender designed to humiliate men About climate change that is mostly myth, While we all wait for the body bags To wash up on our shores at in time past, Not even knowing whose bodies they contain, Draft dodgers finding new ways to dodge Overweight, brain dead idiots, Waiting for the world to end so that they can say, “Told you so!” 2024 journal menu email to Al Sullivan
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  Then as now She needs control To be the person In charge of her Own life, And not to be Under anybody Else’s thumb, Even the rape That must still Haunt her, Is less about sex, Than being Taken advantage of, She had already Given into his hits, He wanted more, Treating her Like a puppet, Drugging her so He could pull her strings, Had he just keep Hitting on her, She might have given in, After all she had Already said “yes” The first time, She might have said Yes again, Only it was never About yes or not, Giving in or not, He needed to Manipulate her, Which must have Scared the bejesus Out of her, More deeply even Than the act itself, She needing to steer Her own yacht, Needing to choose Just whose name Was in her daily planner, Not having it Thrust upon her.     2024 journal menu email to Al Sullivan
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