In i versen jag rymmer
av stillhet översjöld
Från ynkliga bekymmer
blir rimmandet min sköld
Att få leva i stunden
fri när i versmått bunden
Dying to be slim
“Am dying to be slim”, the rat had said. Life listened grimly.
A rat rotund felt bereft
been bemoaning his plight
of being fat. Didn’t look left
skipped as well looking right
He stepped into traffic
met a fate most dire:
an end grisly graphic
crushed by a truck’s tire
When found at daybreak
he had been flattened slim
by friends in heartbreak
sort of happy for him
Be careful how you use hyperbole
it may just turn into reality!
They’re stampeding, commands of ‘calm!’ unheeding
From their luxurious dreamboats
‘calm!’ commands they’re unheeding
elites scramble for the lifeboats
trampling us while stampeding
The elites perform by stealth
elsewhere they’ll disembark
with their self-entitled wealth
as per ‘me first’ hallmark
Those cold-hearted ‘point one percent’ flee first
for solidarity they have no thirst
Faith found engrossing through micro dosing
In this splendid age
he’s a house guest
on the ‘new faith’ stage
in urgent quest
hoping to learn from his son
as society comes unglued
how brazenly to end run
in times of cataclysm prelude
Above all take religions
(of rancid rituals morose)
away from those quack wigeons
brash mega pastors bellicose
they don’t know it’s done through micro dosing
that’s how people find new faith engrossing
+)
wigeon = a dabbling duck, which feed mainly at the surface rather than by diving; a fool