Social Distancing Elegy

Jay Leonard Schwartz - Bed 2019.jpg

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

Spine Tingle Dada - Jay Leonard Schwartz - @jschwartz63

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.
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To Each His Own

To Each His Dada | by Jay L. Schwartz @jschwartz63

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 …

Continue reading

My Modicum Of Free Sentiment

“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.

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Dada Free Beach

"Dada Free Beach" by Jay Schwartz @Jschwartz

“Dada Free Beach”

Wind crab – breaking waves.
Sun dried tomatoes lay …
Where do we go from here?
– To the ship of fools, my dear!
To the buffet of souls, I fear!
And you with the flippers, a beach belly flop!
– Breakfast is served at 10 to never o’clock.
See the reclusive infant reclining in the lounge chair;
less than hyper is he,
for he’s got plenty to play with in his diaper, you see.
Such was the day, panting in the yellow tide,
with two menstrual mermaids, a Buddha and I.
All down the drain we fell,
with a parade of spandex wearing hippos,
paddling like hell.
Now the moral of this beach tale you know must be foul:
always remember to throw in your beach towel!

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