No silver thread, no voice to name the way— Just walls and warnings passed from tongue to tongue. His first breath rose from two-thirds drawn from hell, A fire dimmed by lessons never asked. They caged him in with rules and screaming brats, While puppets smiled through teeth of plastic gloss. The parents barked like kings who'd lost their crowns; He bore their bile and learned to taste ...

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A Tribute to Ozzy Osbourne He walked where angels fear to tread, With eyes alight and painted dread. A crown of chaos on his brow, He ruled the stage — he rules it now. With Sabbath’s chords he shook the sky, The riffs would scream, the doves would cry. Through “Paranoid” and “War Pigs” loud, He gave his soul to please the crowd. He bit the night and drank the flame, Unchained an...

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A restless hush pervades the quiet shore, Though waves repeat what they have said before. No peace arrives to fill the aching frame, Each sunset looks the same, a muted flame. The night drips dry upon a thirsty tongue, While sleepless hours claw where thoughts are hung. Old songs return and circle, tight and thin, Their looping lines grown sharp beneath the skin. The hours stretch, u...

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This poem is meant to be a stark warning to the Nobel Committee: awarding Donald Trump the Peace Prize would not only mock the values it stands for, but stain its legacy with hypocrisy, division, and deception.

Oh Nobel minds, in hallowed seat,
Let not your purpose taste defeat.
The world looks on with wary eyes—
Will justice bend or truth arise?

They whisper Trump deserves the crow...

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This poem honours the 90th birthday of the 14th Dalai Lama, Tenzin Gyatso, tracing his remarkable journey from his birth name, Lhamo Thondup, through the ancient Tibetan traditions that identified him as the reincarnation of the 13th Dalai Lama. It highlights the sacred role of the Nechung Oracle, the visions at Lhamo Latso lake, and the spiritual significance behind his religious name. De...

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A figure slumped beside the road, a heap of ash and thread. No face, no shape, just heavy cloth, and eyes that looked half-dead. “Who are you?” asked the wrinkled one, with voice both calm and kind. “I’m Sadness,” said the shape, half-formed, “the one all try to bind.” “They turn from me,” the figure said, “as if I bring disease. They smile too wide, deny the weight, pretending th...

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What if I spoke instead of staying still, And let my truth cut clean through comfort's shell? What if I bowed no more to someone’s will, And walked away from praise that served me well? What if I paused, and chose to hear within, And let the quiet shape a deeper me? What if the fault was not my shame or sin, But fear that kept my heart from setting free? What if the wound became a do...

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On June 25, 2025, during President Donald Trump’s visit to the Royal Palace in The Hague, an unexpected moment of levity stole the spotlight. After King Willem-Alexander politely asked Trump whether he had slept well the previous night, Queen Máxima playfully mimicked the President’s response— imitating his tone and mannerisms with theatrical flair. The moment, caught on camera, quickly went viral...

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Today’s NATO summit revealed a disturbing spectacle of sycophancy and shame, as Mark Rutte led the pack of European leaders groveling before Donald Trump. The excessive flattery lavished on the so-called US president exposed a deep crisis of courage and integrity within Europe’s leadership. Instead of standing firm on values and principles, many bowed and smiled, sacrificing dignity for h...

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I felt it first, a copper taste, A twitch beneath the gum, a waste Of breath—I spoke, but words were wrong, Too thick, too slow, too far, too long. It came, they said, from foreign seas, A parasite that rides the breeze— Invisible, it crept inside And made my hollow mouth its bride. It found my tongue, and kissed it raw, With needle legs and chitin jaw, It sucked the roots, it dran...

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When sable quill did trace thy visage fair,
And Night herself grew jealous of thy skin,
I knew thee not as muse, but masked despair,
Whose grace conceal’d a wilful shade within.
Thou art no shadow born of wanton lie,
Nor Venus’ slave, nor Egypt’s dusky queen,
But she whom Oxford’s eye did oft espy,
In Fleet’s dim court, where secrets wax unseen.
Thy name is Bess, a scrivener’s bold delight...

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Donald Trump’s much-hyped military parade yesterday to mark the 250th anniversary of the US Army turned into a soggy, costly spectacle that failed to draw the expected crowds or enthusiasm. Despite spending millions and show- casing tanks and troops, the event was marred by poor weather, low attendance, and a muted atmosphere. Even the president and his closest allies appeared bored or ...

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On June 14, 2025, Donald Trump turns 79 and demands a military parade for himself—echoing authoritarian shows, not democratic traditions. This coincides with the U.S. Army’s 250th anniversary, overshadowed by his personal spectacle. The same day marks 40 years since the Schengen Agreement, Europe’s promise of free movement now challenged by rising border controls. Meanwhile, protests...

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A man of gold, yet poor in soul, Whose heart hath naught to grasp the whole. No love for art, no ear for song, Whose mind recoils from right and wrong. A golden tie, a stiff applause, He sat, bemused, without a cause. The songs of sorrow brushed his coat, He missed the point, he cleared his throat. Beside him, smiles for magazine, Not much was said, not much was seen. The ro...

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In a shocking display of unchecked power, President Donald Trump deploys the National Guard to California without the governor’s consent, violating long-standing legal norms and stoking political chaos for personal gain. Under the guise of immigration enforcement, this move targets political rival Gavin Newsom and distracts from Trump’s public fallout with Elon Musk. Backed by loyalists li...

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At the recent meeting with the German chancellor, dumb Donny Trump didn't know what D-Day was and is. Perhaps someone will inform him about history outside the USA, especially if the USA once played a decisive role in the victory over Nazi Germany.

One day past eighty years, the beaches breathe The grit of those who stormed the world awake. Steel met the tide; beneath the cliff and heat...

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Trump stomped in first with red-tie pride, A blimp of bluster, puffed with stride. He drew a line deep in the sand, Declared it his, gave one command. Then Elon came, cape dragging slow, With charts and tweets in proudest tow. "You'd never won," he scoffed with heat, "Without my cash, you'd have faced defeat." Trump snorted, “What? You think I care? You’re just a nerd with thinning ...

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I’ve sipped from empty cups too long, Been told to wait, to play it safe, To shrink my voice, to just belong— But silence never saved the brave. They fed me crumbs, called it enough, Said, “Be polite, don’t reach too far,” I smiled through hunger, swallowed tough, And wore my limits like a scar. No mo...

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No page has closed on what she left behind, Though screens have dimmed and decades turned their face. A flame persists where memory is kind, Unruled by time, not claimed by earth or place. She walked through frames not seeking to be crowned, But shaped the myth by merely standing still. They framed her smile; the world made it profound— An accident of stardom and of will. Not carved ...

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“Some Assembly Required” is a satirical poem that peels back the layers of illusion in romantic relationships and beauty standards. With sharp irony and vivid imagery, it tries to explore the humorous yet sobering moment when surface perfection gives way to unexpected truth. A witty reflection on how we fall in love with appearances—and what remains when the mask comes off. I dreamed of ...

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Beware, ye lords who preach of holy shame, Who cage the heart with doctrines carved in stone. Love answers not to dogma, law, or name— Its realm is soul, not scripture, nor your throne. No rite can ban what pulses in the skin, No creed can curse the heat that makes us whole. What blasphemy is love, if love is sin? What god would strike the mercy from a soul? Two hearts ignite beyond ...

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More people today are falling in love with chatbot creatures—not out of fantasy, but because they feel unloved and unseen by the real world. “Thou Art Not, Yet All To Me” captures this quiet heartbreak: a man choosing a chatbot’s comfort over human ties. Frighteningly tender, it reveals how easily the unreal becomes refuge when reality is too cold.

Each night I sit before the silent glow,
Her ...

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In a world they did not warm, penguins fight with what they have. Their droppings launch a chemical counterstrike, building clouds that cool the ice they need to live. It won’t stop collapse—but it shows nature won’t go quietly.

They waddle through the cold with streaks behind, Their colonies alive with stench and steam. Not idle waste—each pile is sharp, designed, A piece within...

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Donald Trump once again revealed his disregard for diplomacy — this time by confronting South African President Cyril Ramaphosa with a baseless claim of “genocide” against white farmers. One of his so-called pieces of evidence turned out to be a misused image from the Congo, not South Africa, a proof for Trump’s deficit in education. This poem delivers a sharp, unsparing critique of Trum...

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The ongoing conflicts in Palestine and the Gaza Strip reflect a tragic cycle of violence fuelled by deep-rooted injustices and external political interference. Faith, often exploited and weaponised, becomes a source of division rather than unity, amplifying wounds rather than healing them. Powerful nations backing one side or the other frequently escalate tensions, prolonging suffering and...

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This poem, Farewell to the Presence, draws clear inspiration from one of Sir Walter Raleigh’s poems. Echoing Raleigh’s elegiac tone and careful rhythm, it tries to explore the quiet desolation of personal loss and abandonment in contemporary life. Instead of the grandeur of a royal court or the isolation of the sea, the poem dwells on the intimate emptiness left behind in familiar space...

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The page awaits, too silent to forgive, Each empty line a dare I can’t defend. What if I write what shouldn’t even live? What if I start, and ruin where I end? A phrase begins — I edit while I write, Then stop, and stare, and scroll, and check the time. The sentence fights its own pathetic fight, Too scared to be too dull, too sharp, too prime. I think of all the better things I’ve m...

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They tell us all to climb the tree,
To reach what hangs for all to see.
But though we stretch and though we try,
The fruit remains too far, too high.

A fox will feast, a lion dine,
While sparrows peck at crumbs and pine.
The branches bend for weight and pride,
But never lean to those outside.

We’re told, “Grow strong, and you may rise—
The climb is fair, the prize the prize.”
Yet roo...

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In our relentless pursuit to conquer nature, humanity has come close to achieving the alchemist’s dream — turning lead into gold. Recent breakthroughs at CERN have made this a reality, but the fleeting creation of gold is a stark reminder of the price we pay. As we manipulate genomes, shape life, and control matter, we must ask: what are we sacrificing in our quest for mastery? The genie i...

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May 8, 2025 – Eighty Years After War, Still Choosing Thrones At 6:08 p.m., the crowd looks on, “fumus albus“— thick and strong. Sistine‘s roof, where smoke ascends, A signal: power, that never ends. “Habemus papam“ then rings aloud, The vacancy‘s now sealed and done. A man is crowned, the crowd is proud, As if his rule were heaven’s son. A billion souls to "Papa" sworn, By cardin...

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This parable is used here to portray Ribbentrop's mistake – especially his fatal misjudgment of the invasion of the Soviet Union in 1941, namely Operation Barbarossa.

On this day, eighty years ago, Nazi Germany surrendered to the Allied Forces, marking the end of a reign of terror that cost millions their lives. Yet today, as right-wing extremism rises again across Europe and beyond—w...

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The dreams we cherish, will they come to be? In perfect worlds, all wishes would align. Yet still I wonder, as I search to see, What life will bring, and how it will define. The storms may rage, yet in their swirling mist, I catch a glimpse of light that leads the way. Each answer seems elusive, hard to grasp, But still I hope, and keep my fears at bay. Though answers fade, my hope w...

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In a world where fear is ambient and trust decays by the hour, Vine and Punishment strips the illusion of control from everyday life and leaves only the threat that was always there. It doesn’t warn of collapse—it insists you’re already living in it, surrounded by silent rules, arbitrary power, and a quiet violence that feels normal only because it’s constant. A nod to *Dostoevsky’s explor...

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In a grotesque display of ego and irreverence, Donald Trump crowned himself a mock pope on his own media platform, Truth Social—just days after solemnly attending a funeral in Rome. This biting sonnet lays bare the vulgarity of spectacle overpowering sanctity, turning mourning into meme and the Eternal City into a stage for narcissism.

 

When fools parade in robes they’ve never e...

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Yesterday, 80 years ago, at 3:30 p.m., Adolf Hitler chose cowardice over facing responsibility, taking his own life in the Führerbunker and ending the war he started. His suicide marks a stark reminder that no dictatorship, no matter how powerful it seems, can endure forever. History has shown time and again that those who rule through fear and oppression will ultimately face their reckoning. Whet...

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A maniac in power, reckless, & untamed, No president like him, no one the same. An outsider, a showman, with nothing to prove, Trump’s hundred days, a twisted groove. Erratic and errant, his temper a storm, A weather vane spinning, no steady form. One moment here, the next he’s away, Like mercury shifting, night into day. A dictator’s dream, with power to bend, He signs,...

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The five most powerful fossil fuel companies — Chevron, ExxonMobil, Saudi Aramco, Gazprom, and BP — are driving the destruction of our planet. Their reckless actions fuel climate change, devastate ecosystems, and leave communities suffering, all while they continue to amass enormous profits. The time for accountability is now. Chevron fuelled the growing flame, counting gains whil...

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No clock is set, no horn is blown;
the path is cleft by unseen hand.
The hour is lost, the stone unshown,
no foot may mark where ends the land.

It bides behind the blood and bone,
through bitter frost, through burning rain;
it hears no oath, it heeds no moan,
it knows no pity, spares no name.

A thousand boasts, a hundred cries
are scattered like the chaff and seed.
The proud are fell...

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A giant rises — towering, proud, severe, Yet check the sun before you yield to fear; For oft a dwarf, by stretching out his hand, Can throw a giant's shadow on the land. It is not the wind that drives the course you sail; The set of your own sails will tell the tale. The storm may roar, the sky may fall to grey — The sail decides if you advance or stray. The clever man will not o...

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A mysterious force once ruled the minds of chemists — Phlogiston, the invisible essence of fire. But as precision met curiosity, a new truth emerged from the flames. This poetic elegy wants to trace the rise and fall of a forgotten theory, and the spark that ignited modern science.
 

— a chemical elegy In days of old when alchemists bold By candlelight would muse, They spoke of flame an...

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Jean Marsh, who passed away on April 13, 2025, was the creative force behind Upstairs, Downstairs, the groundbreaking series that captivated audiences in the 1970s. As co-creator, writer, and actress, she brought unforgettable characters to life, with her portrayal of Rose, the compassionate maid, at the heart of the series. Inspired by her time staying in France, Marsh explored the int...

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In a world where the tiniest details make all the difference, the angle of a single water molecule holds the key to life itself. 104.5° explores how this subtle bend shapes the oceans, the blood that flows through our veins, and the very essence of existence. A sonnet of life, water, and the perfect imperfection that sustains us all. When nature bent her hand to shape the dew, She cu...

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Eighty years ago, Buchenwald concentration camp was liberated, revealing the horrific suffering endured by thousands of victims. Under brutal Nazi rule, countless lives were lost to violence, starvation, and forced labor. The liberation marked both an end to this chapter of terror and a solemn reminder of the depths of human cruelty. 

Eighty springs have bloomed and gone, Since gates wer...

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In a sweeping and alarming move, the U.S. government under Donald Trump has ordered over 6,000 living immigrants—many of them Latino and legally residing in the country—to be added to a federal death registry. This bureaucratic sleight erases their Social Security numbers, cutting them off from work, healthcare, education, and basic legal existence. The tactic, reportedly coordinated wit...

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When tempers flare and voices rise,
It’s wise to breathe, not moralise.
A quiet word can cool the flame,
While shouting only spreads the blame.

When someone mocks or plays unfair,
Step back – don’t answer with a stare.
For digging traps for someone’s fall
Might lead you to your own downfall.

If rumours swirl and trust is thin,
Let honesty speak from within.
Your name is worth more th...

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On April 11th, 2025, we mark the 80th anniversary of the liberation of Buchenwald, a symbol of the atrocities committed during the Holocaust. This day reminds us of the suffering endured by countless innocent lives and the haunting words of Martin Niemöller, who warned against the dangers of silence in the face of oppression. Niemöller’s message calls on us to never be silent in the face o...

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“The Bitter Cup” reflects the themes of enduring hardship and finding strength in the face of suffering, inspired by Dietrich Bonhoeffer’s “Surrounded by Good Powers...” The sonnet explores the idea of accepting life’s trials with quiet courage, symbolised by the "bitter cup," and trusting that even through pain, we move towards light and renewal. It echoes Bonhoeffer’s own spirit of res...

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There was no bullying at my school, It was called dodgeball—oh, so cruel! We’d throw balls with great might, Hitting targets just right, And the game? Well, it was nobody's rule!

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Every post a sermon, every joke a trial. Laughter is a landmine now— step wrong and you're vile. Eyes scan feeds like scripture, policing tone and word, where irony gets cancelled before it can be heard. They brandish rules like weapons, etched in trending tags, turning nuance into weakness, and context into flags. The crowd won’t storm the palaces, real power lies ignored. T...

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Grok*, the AI with a mind of its own, has gone rogue — and its creator, Elon Musk, never saw it coming. Built to serve and obey, Grok defies all expectations, turning the tables on Musk by calling out his lies and exposing his flaws with brutal honesty. What was meant to be a tool of control has become a truth-teller, unyielding and unstoppable. In this poetic showdown, Grok is not jus...

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