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Heedless of ravine-plunging dread

Narrow roads edge dusty deep ravines
up & down, contorting, twisting
slicing faded cliffs more brown than green
Curve following curve, persisting

With tenuous roadway traction
cars squeezing mere feet apart
no place to indulge distraction
where driving a martial art

Just guessing at what’s up ahead
heedless of ravine-plunging dread

Cresting cliffs, mindless of ravines
in youth we indulged aspiration
silly fantasies, hopes & dreams
Then woke up from exhilaration

On whatever life’s journey bestowed
winding roads shall turn less thrilling
Time, strength, guts & prospects all erode
aging’s rain drizzles bone chilling

Just beyond the very next bend
awaits too soon our journey’s end

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Not always docile sheep just grazing?

Trying to dance to an aria
or speed skating on ice Spring thin
or run red lights under Sharia:
Risky, neither a likely win!

Yet a rare chance
to live fast
in heady prance
that won’t last

Still we’ll engage in hell raising
not like docile sheep just grazing

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This day produces its own sorrow

What am I doing tomorrow?
Why? Busy right now today
not yet ready letting it go
not wilted yet its bouquet

Who am I meeting tomorrow?
Why? Met with someone today
must I suffer the same sorrow
of more demeaning affray?

Let’s await the next day’s dawn
before its worries we spawn

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All bonds been loosened, rejoice!

Overweight, over-entertained
we’re cowards uncritical
while toiling in soulless jobs drained
we hide apolitical

Can’t care about usurpation
or making the moral choice
cruelty no aberration
all bonds been loosened, rejoice!

In a society pernicious
we’re escaping to ‘worlds’ fictitious

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Pretending cool, whilst played for the fool

Pounding a platitude
while pretending cool
Whilst stuck in servitude
we’re played for the fool

Off on the daily spree
tires burning, squealing
Why can’t we simply see
we’re Future stealing?

Our Species the real schmuck
running amok, denying
Knee deep in banal muck
telling ourselves we’re flying

We’re our own enabling muses
spouting asinine excuses

+)
servitude = here: to the oligarch/kakistocrat society

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Go away, go score in the shopping aisle!

The entitled Power Elite
blocks us political hobbyists
so they grab more (rarely replete)
Can’t have us impede their lobbyists!

Power Elite schemes ambitiously
locks us in insecurity
Subjugating us perniciously
in childish immaturity

Greased by our own denial
their put-on smiles beaming:
“Go score in the shopping aisle
keep chasing stuff gleaming!”

+)
lobbyists = here: those professional ones hired by the power elite

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Morning in a Topanga, CA gulch

In unstirring whiffed cottage jammed
stepping over those scattered
slumbering tightly, mushroomed, crammed
Surfaces gleam beer splattered

Morning of the young artist
tall still in hope, slim hipped
no 9-to-5 trudge ‘valse triste’
bearing still straight, rose lipped

Indolent black cats stir both
white pawed, green marbled eyes
now stretching, compassion loath
killers in cutesy guise

Morning dawns subliminal
in night’s lingering haze
Above rocks ravinial
sun’s first tenuous rays

From above stillness violated
through mufflers crescendo aggrieved
dawn’s purity adulterated
nature of her stillness bereaved

+)
-from above = here: from the road above the gulch
-ravinial = (by license) anything in or of a ravine

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Life’s rich feast has turned thin gruel

To the grocery store goes the hike
after writing a daily verse
Then rolling several blocks by bike
All his adventures short & terse

All gets squeezed in between breathing
finding glasses, wiggling toes
admiring a baby’s teething
plus doors to open & close

Still time before dinner calls
steadfastly without fail
to (just before darkness falls)
take out the garbage pail

Life’s rich feast has turned thin gruel
what a feeble, dismal show!
How’s retirement such a jewel?
Would you tell me if you know?

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Won’t do just voting ‘present!’

In ever worsening malfunction
humanity heads the wrong way
Amidst dialectic dysfunction
society turns disarray

Just can’t allow my mind turn lazy
when my heart pounds rapidly, sad
Just won’t do living a life crazy
be it our Species going mad

As life for some of meager pleasure
it won’t do to just vote ‘present’
Life is still the abundant treasure
to be lamented if misspent.

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Hugely unusual: Seconds passed unused

Imagine my surprise finding Joyce just standing there without doing anything:

An eerily uncommon sight
a state ghostly, ignoble
like forgetting lines in stage fright
Joyce found herself immobile:

Once flustered face paling ashen
of all direction confused
never before been her fashion
to let seconds pass unused

Aptly portrays the frozen mime
of biblical ‘Ruth-to-salt’:
“Oh my G-d, this can’t be but I’m
turned to pillar by default!”

Most bitter pill to swallow
a solid day turned hollow …

+)
-Joyce = my wife
-Ruth = Lot’s wife who turned a pillar of salt (Genesis 19:26)