Not Poetry. Quatrain Verse in English & Swedish. Dagsverser. On the Mundane & the Arcane.
Turmoil churns nocturnally
contorted internally:
Flooded by angst at night
Clock on night table stands still
No way out, left or right!
While under thick blanket chill
After toss & turn til dawn
face the day, get a grip!
Though eyes blurred, facial hue wan
must try to right the ship
Rising in to the day’s noise
we must try to gather poise
Whining, be it with passion,
plain fails to stir compassion
So try step out from yourself
as the Self a mere illusion:
A cruel mischievous elf
how she traps us in delusion!
Dawn finds me writing hushed verse
flows calmly gushingly
Still should the day turns adverse
it reigns unblushingly
and so each day shall end in afterglow
till I breathe in verse again tomorrow
By remorse acquainted
have tried paint over my past
but by past I’m tainted
so the gloss just would not last
My body dinged, dented
mind mushed, fermented
my poor soul tormented
A Life repented
On Life’s ladder I wobble estranged
fear being put in the ground unchanged
Through Neoliberal contortion
said to ‘free us’ from solidarity
we thrash about in self absorption
in loneliest of insularity
But the ‘freed’ claim is specious
far from innocent gaffe
nor is the claim facetious
since on us is the laugh!
If we don’t fight together
that fierce One Percent Bunch
for sure (not about ‘whether’)
shall devour us for lunch!
+)
-One Percent Bunch = the Power Elites (more like ‘point one percent’) who are stealing our economic, social and environmental commons, by the methods of Neoliberalism
“Hey, just some quick research on the Net, and I’ll hold my own against any expert in any field! Advanced degrees & years of practice is just for the slow learner!”
Many a Net acolyte
goes from sheer neophyte
to solidly erudite
by mere keyboard tap light!
Thus she or he presumes
by unique prerogative
to learn from iffy fumes!
Ain’t that too rebarbative?
Not just naively superficial
but to sound outcome prejudicial!
Tar du för givet att ha fri vilja?
Så kanske också kor å persilja?
Livstigen oförutsebar
så Mänska håll dej beredd!
Fast av oss oöverblickbar
kanske av Ödet vägledd?
Mens Förutbestämmelsen skylld parodiskt
blir Viljan romantisk hyllad melodiskt
Claiming to be percipient
while jumping to conclusion
on what’s merely incipient
shall at best stir confusion
If you think you understand
try hold off til explained
Spouting answers beforehand
shall appear featherbrained
Dismissive impatience
hangs out with complacence
Seems I just glanced at her, sadly
should’ve looked her in the eyes, madly
While by Summer enchanted
she was gone by morrow
had taken her for granted
neglect turns deep sorrow
the more my life’s focus scatters
the more its flies by in tatters
Collapsing cultures
bring wordy vultures:
Slipshod sentences keep churning
words wobbly, promptly crash land
leaving us puzzled and yearning
to connect and understand
Language perishes by drought
meaning lost, while we lose clout