Consoling Exchanges and Rhythm Changes
Whiter than white,
but warming to human touch,
just a stone’s throw away
from sticks and brush.
Hit the dirt shuffling;
pay no attention to rags and bones
or the masked tears and shouts
to send him home.
Kalo Mhna! Where’s my panacea?
Another December to dismember,
but never forget to remember …
the days it was glad to see ya.
The Last Grasp for a Gasp
Deeply lost in the woods in the unsettling comfort of your grasp.
The misunderstood remain elusive, purposely so …
and, there but before ego, grace falls in serpentine gasps.
The window will turn seasons again in a few moments.
Stay tuned—the show is about to begin!
A cast of characters scatter the dreams, laid out like serpents.
Go into the supermarket,
see the British pork.
See the British beef;
see they way they squawk.
In the summer, sun goes up,
then where does it go?
Hanging in the sky like a fookin’ UFO.
Social Distancing Elegy
Oh, children! Where are you marching off to today?
Oh, children! Where are you stomping off to today?
Are you going down to St. James Infirmary?
– (No, Lord, I’m staying home today.)
Will you go down to Maggie’s Farm?
– (No Ma, I’m staying put today.)
Let me tell you ’bout social editing
in the new math of justifying
the survival of the populist regime.
One soul dying … but it’s only one.
Ten souls dying … but not in my home.
A hundred souls dying …
– (Well, they were already gone.)
A thousand souls dying …
– (Didn’t know ’em. Save the other ones!)
Ten thousand souls dying …
– (Not in my constituency. Come on!)
A hundred thousand souls dying …
– (Gotta keep moving on …)
A million souls dying …
And it goes on and on … Continue reading
The Scream Of The Reader
The demands of others are paramount …
Relentless, they are – in sickness and in health.
Unyielding in their vying for your attention.
Be warned …
Yes! Yes! A story!
A story of infinite glory!
Have you ever met a spineless wonder?
How about a spec of thunder?
“To each his own”, says the needy,
mainly to brave the trickling pity.
But wait for the punchline; it will come in time.
Continue reading
To Each His Own
Why do we cast our eyes from one to another …
but only to those who nod in kind …
with eyes averted …
from what is common among us?
To each his own …
Oh, what a world …
Oh, what a world …
Hate finds objectivity …
an equal opportunity pervades all.
Tears are subjective …
seeking comfort in the cognate.
To each his own …
Oh, what a world …
Oh, what a world …
“My Modicum Of Free Sentiment”
Where is America, you white devil?
Down in old glory, in a helluva
blinding blitzkrieg of bling.
And you, my flaming sullen Greece,
not so far behind,
with nothing to the table
did you bring?
Ah yes, democracy,
in which all votes go to the usual swine,
and to their constituents
trickle down the usual piss, vinegar and aftershave-cum-wine.
Full stop.
Beyond what you feel
you can sense,
but you refuse to see.
Pause.
Too much thoughtlessness,
– the usual behavior
concerning progress.
Freeze.
Continue reading
Canned love;
open at your own risk.
Contains vacuum packed soul;
all air has been removed to ensure freshness.
Nutritional benefits may vary according to serving size.
Warning! Love is a perishable item.
To retain the composure of your composition,
conserve your passion and keep your heart refrigerated.
Loitering Words 