Category: Poetry

Just a tick or two north of this or that.
We’re not letting the world across our mat.

Best to sweep a bit past our garden gates.
Pinch the dirt out from under potentates.

Small acts ease the load of clean, snatch & jerk.
Staying match fit for the coming end’s work.

We’ve chosen low before…& it backfired.
We’d choose high; but even the sky is mired.

We could stay still: maintaining the bubble.
Though life hemmed that thin…double the trouble.

What thus follows is like an ode.
It is writ in digital code.

Yet, you won’t see zeros & ones.
For, magic maths make air weigh tonnes.

Cyber language invisible…
Into known text divisible.

We read the data we are shown.
Aware, beyond, more could be known.

Yes, we take our tech at its word.
Ignoring ghosts that we’ve all heard.

Here, they are found in our skincare.
Former darlings of germ warfare.

Look there; alert & lucidly.
For, we fuck things up deucedly.

Our minds’ eyes fertile & fecund.
Absorbing more than brains reckoned.

Tweak the weapon & heal instead.
Yet, overuse will kill you dead.

Miniaturized arms…bombs & drones.
The last field of battle…our bones.

Reading is a mood enhancer.
Escape is the common answer.

We’ll run from here with all our might.
We’ll search the dawns for signs of night.

Our childish eyes just want to play.
If open, display they survey.

Their only function is to see.
They record both horror & glee.

We choose the things that our eyes know.
Words lend balance to ebb & flow.

For P

I am awash in what’s pop.
New shit goes right to the top.
The state of my inbox is slop.

I’m always falling behind.
FOMO is ruling my mind.
My attention span’s in a bind.

I can’t focus on the old;
Whenever new things are sold.
My bottom layer’s always mold.

My attention starts to drift;
In the face of a fresh gift.
For all mint conditions, I sift.

I have tried staying up late.
I’ve even sped up my rate.
But nought compares to brand new bait.

Every night, as we put the day to rest…
Some kill the day’s worst & savor it’s best.

Some kill both & are, in the morning, the same.
Some catalog both; thus, winning the game.

Some do no accounting, afore or aft…
Just knowing they live when they’ve cried or laughed.

Some haven’t the means to look at theirselves…
No feeling shaped tools & less for mind-delves.

Nights, we dig graves, bury faults & treasure.
Or, live blind…just consumption & pleasure.  

A pot of chocolate custard…
For this, I am keen as mustard.

Once it’s chilled & ready to go…
Crackable caramel chapeau.

Its crust beset with diamond ice.
Sea salt crystals, the humblest spice.

Then chilled & served with dainty spoon.
We crack & whack…scoop, taste & swoon.

Good not to know when next it’s served.
Foreknown, would have us all unnerved.

For H

We are the bootstraps of the rich.
The very thing they preach & pitch.

We take the bait & waste a life.
Often spent as our betters’ knife.

When times get tough they yank the poor.
They shake us down so they’ll endure.

When lowest cast no longer fruits;
They’ll come for the middle man’s suits.

In truth, wealth’s never leaked from crown.
Yet, hollowed houses will fall down.

Saddle up that inbound comet!
Don’t you want to ride upon it?

Harness, bridle & saddle too.
Plus, reins of silk for both of you.

Shoot out to see the Milky Way.
Among star nurseries; we play.

Revolution thru the spiral.
Systems without name or title.

Sure, you could come back home to earth.
Yet, stories are not near trip’s worth.

I am the crying clown.
I’m up when I am down.
My rusted bells & other tells…
Like my cardboard crown.

Whatever my employ…
I’d dreamed of bringing joy.
I broke away & made my play…
As a living toy. 

My big shoes are muddy.
Grateful they aren’t bloody.
Both blood & gore’s on killing floors…
Neither one’s funny.

My costume’s soaking wet.
My greasepaint’s smeared with sweat.
With peanut pay & beds of hay…
Fortune does forget.

My smile’s aged to a frown.
Life spread from town to town.
I started out no skill; just doubt…
Now, a crying clown.