Not Poetry. Quatrain Verse in English & Swedish. Dagsverser. On the Mundane & the Arcane.
Are words only something we say
(while of use when pray or prey)
often a chatter game, a play
of silly flatter or flay?
Ain’t sweating meaning for fools
and hassle use dictionary?
Words need not be meaning’s mules
No! to word constabulary!
But words still prove useful tools
when needing to allay
or leading gullible fools
on to a path, astray
Although phrases may stray
do gather up a bouquet
when attempting to sway
someone to love or to pay!
Haughty members officiate
in lofty paneled splendor
Each looking the initiate
though who knows mere pretender?
They bow down to Holy Economy
while in pseudoscience dalliance
suspiciously bit like astrology
in mantic Wall Street misalliance
With technocratic virtuosity
interprets the arcane, complaisant
with ceremonious pomposity
befitting Elite turned complacent
Of social justice little said
by those bailed out Capitalist banks
or of folks hanging by a thread
in desperation-filled serf-like ranks
While The Fed & other Elite conspire
to keep people down in debt-ridden mire
+)
-Fed = here: The Federal Reserve Bank. The ‘Central Bank’ of the United States & globally which claims to be independent while owned by banking interests
Lifted beyond mind & heart distraught
Unshackled from self insignificant
Saved from lonely fear & scattered thought
Freed from mortal body recalcitrant
Passion’s waves crash on to eternity’s shore
from turmoil, anger & of guilt relieved
Briefly we rest in immortality’s core
not absolved, momentarily reprieved
While only the most clueless among nerds
dare describe Beethoven’s music with words …
In the early 1920’s through mid 40’s era:
Arm straight at 45 degrees, empty palm down, with jaw jutted upward aligned with arm. Transfixed on Il Duce or Der Fuhrer. Practiced by tens of millions, saluting those fascist unsavory squirts in their black or brown shirts, who stirred up the desperate masses.
In the current era:
Around 90 degrees between upper and lower arm, palm up,
hand slightly rotated inward, head slightly turned with jaw tilted downward.
Transfixed on The Screen. Practiced by billions of distracted, desperate masses some of whom may spend a significant portion of their income on their smarter-than-them phones, which further enrich huge corporations:
Being stuck on Fantasy’s Screen
like Narcissus focused on his bod
blind to how they fervidly preen
twittering away in ‘nose glued’ plod
But come on, try a detached look:
boorish, self centered banality
living life liking on Facebook
substituting for Reality
In both eras: poses thought beyond cool
Unless one is a ‘nonconformist fool’
+)
-Il Duce = Benito Mussolini, ruler of Fascist Italy 1922-43
-Der Fuhrer = Adolf Hitler, ruler of Fascist Germany 1934-45
“Strip away the trivial and the banal, the empty chatter and foolish obsessions that fill our days” – Chris Hedges
Indulging each bagatelle
welcoming every distraction?
In our games of show-and-tell
we lack reality traction
Why not live to be able to say
when catches us the Grim Reaper:
‘At least I agonized in the fray
make sure to tell the Gate Keeper!’
Rather in ungainly Reality struggle
than vainly in Fantasy trying to snuggle
Remote entry lights flash, honking horn
just to get into one’s own car?!
Am I the only one left forlorn?
Ain’t this too much, taken too far?
Anywhere left to go to be spared
all that talking, beeping, tinging?
Tell me: Must all ‘happy’ noise be shared
must our ears be buzzing, ringing?
What happened to just plain driving
spared electronic conniving?
Decision making worth not one iota
wobbling, am yet again straddling the fence
Long since depleted my green house gas quota
The same old dead end dance: Ambivalence
Why another near speed of sound detour
thirty thousand feet above the ground?
Tell me, what’s conceivably the allure?
In Life where am I really bound?
Am no longer a sightseer
as found the ‘there’ over there
would no more enrich or endear
than does the ‘here’ back home here
So there, er, here!
Here with her cute Grandma looks
she’s a Jewish princess
when in her kitchen she cooks
up a pile of blintzes
Food to break the Yom Kippur fast
though we’ve been eating all day
but in these bright times who’s aghast?
We’re still ‘breaking the fast’, ok?
How we atone with others & G-d:
we’re all chomping, no one winces
Faith yes, but we must nourish the bod
Don’t be bashful: Pass the blintzes!
My o my, such an unfair fate!
Why’s all this done just to me?
All crumbling at a nose dive rate
how can this allowed to be?
I want to pile up a heap
am eager to consume
and to do so on the cheap.
So rightfully I fume:
Mother Earth, she’s a disaster.
Just thinking of herself, blast her!
Seattle 2012:
Wars, global warming or plight of the poor?
No, paper bags soon 5 cents at the store!
A situation turned dire
that aroused citizens’ ire
And no bags plastic hurt them to the core!