Not Poetry. Quatrain Verse in English & Swedish. Dagsverser. On the Mundane & the Arcane.
Let’s not use logic or facts
as way burdensome to prepare
fitting into our talking tracts
Much easier to just declare!
Who cares for solidarity
never mind the aftermath
Stay with stale insularity
let’s walk our own primrose path
on which responsible objectivity
won’t risk meet with scantest receptivity
While in erstwhile hushed times
we were allowed to slow down
sounds of lingering chimes
listened to with smile, not frown
Those were the days of reflection
by humans of circumspection
Where trampling consumer herds graze
among shrill sales pitches sclerotic
with perked up ears, their screens in face
stampede in commerce idiotic
With grasping hearts ice pack cold
snagging shiny contrivances
by acts as quick as they’re bold
in persuasive connivances
While we barely break in sweat shopping
still being on a track all sopping
“Just ride it out”, says my cheery wife,
“watch a video, write a verse
enjoy your late life without the strife!”
Until carted off in the hearse
But spared suffering, struggle & strife
how can humans live well in life?
If trivial coasting til last breath
we’re not alive before our death?
And how to pretend Life is smooth sailing
while throwing up bent over the railing?
+)
railing = here: a ship’s (hand) rail
Dare to question Tech Perfection
beyond granted latitude
and we’ll face instant rejection
thus won’t change Tech’s attitude
Our misgivings of Technology
is not to slander and belie
It shows signs of own pathology
fever chart racing up awry
Why do we march, lockstep with spring
obeying each ring & flash?
How long let brash gadgets go ‘ting’
while draining our cards of cash?
Just as long as we allow it
feed the Beast and we’ll endow it!
You’re loving effulgence
in Life’s wondrous dance
abounding indulgence
of sweet happenstance
You’re my life’s five star menu
served up in senescence
For me wobbly the venue
outside your dear presence
From our youthful romance
until, soon, our last glance
Baby Anton Oct 2013 in his stroller with Eric leaning over
Anton, aged one, seated in his elaborate stroller and Eric, his old neighbor & ground crew, meet for a morning chat, while Anton reflects:
Mom, Mom watch, watch me, Mom
handsome, unruffled.
Staying serenely calm
by binky muffled.
Mom, Mom watch, watch me, Mom
in my spacecraft seat.
With greatest of aplomb
hovering off street.
So cool by console, at controls
by all adult doubt unfazed.
Topping the baby pilot polls
my many enemies dazed.
But it can’t be a breeze
for my poor ground crew.
Eric leaning in askew
on his aging knees?
We’re two gregarious chaps
who banter when we meet
sporting similar slick caps:
The neighborhood elite.
(p.s. Mom:)
Admirers all keep rushing
squeaky voices gushing.
How do I avoid blushing?
Celeb’s role bit crushing.
The frazzled frayed old man
in light breeze shivers and creaks
Sensing end of lifespan
fuzzy his thoughts, paled his cheeks
Pondered too much about human existence
when might just have lived more in coexistence
Hej, krumma nätskälm
med näsan på skärmen
iförd en ‘tech-hjälm’
o så käck å färm en
Tänka sej skärmar å tangentborden
dyrkas nu som vore Fosterjorden!
What’s the true price of ‘convenience’
beyond just the purchase sticker?
Add in cost of our self-lenience
and it hastily turns sicker
incurred by a ‘wheeled fortress’ car
‘starter castle’ residence
frequent air travel wide & far
current clueless President
And in this nation most obese
we keep ordering extra cheese!