Not Poetry. Quatrain Verse in English & Swedish. Dagsverser. On the Mundane & the Arcane.
Is a claim of upstanding
while flimsy, most musty
kept alive by grandstanding
with bogus modesty?
While who knows what lurks
in our subliminal
perhaps shirks & smirks
some intrigues criminal?
Or are we just one of many liars
amongst precious few truthful outliers?
Senatorial behavior during the Kavanaugh Supreme Court nomination hearing inspired this verse.
Such puffed up buffoons!
Poltroons in a war dance!
Aspired, failed tycoons?
Leaves us looking askance
Hearings in judicial committee
lair of panicked male chauvinism
where senators spray sick graffiti
ominous of neo-fascism
Misogyny in harsh light
shining unsparingly bright
My worn mind kept on churning
jaws clenched in face paling
ears & cheeks hotly burning
relived every failing
Aged humiliations amassed
kept The Now cruelly harassed
I could not bear in time left
to be held captive by The Past
Then, at last, found strength to heft
rebelled in too long suppressed blast!
Since having tamed The Past iniquitous
The Now been blossoming ubiquitous
Vållar förståsigpåare
flaggan gul å blåare?
Oss starkare än sjåare
senhöstkvällen gråare?
Efter bristfällig daning
fastslår de vad som bör göras
fast själva saknar aning
vilken brödsida som smöras!
Så duktiga att hyckla å gyckla
så länge de själva slipper cykla!
“Then we went there
and that was so great
they liked my hair
and then we all ate!”
Spare me loquacious logistics
with silly shallow heuristics!
In boorish reporting
of meager meandering
while mixing exhorting
with transparent pandering
Mercy, don’t let this pass for life
rather send me strenuous strife!
Memories glaringly stoke
turns the Past over as by plow
while seems every pedal stroke
distracts me away from The Now
Riding the bike ‘memory machine’
brings on wondrous recollection
as if shown on refulgent wide screen
in stern fiat retrospection
Whilst as long as rotate the wheels
my mixed Past unflinchingly squeals 8
+)
squeal = to inform on
Ler vi kanske i mjugg
för vi tror oss präktiga
fast vet inte ett dugg
snarare vanmäktiga?
Vår dagliga rutin
förblir att endast påta
Surra liksom Guds bin
omkring i Livets Gåta
Törs vi hoppas på klarhet
innan dödens evighet?
Jaw jutting
grin fixated
Walk strutting
hope inflated
In Life had hoped to win
but took it on the chin
Outlook bearish
nightmarish
Culture garish
prez czarish
So what to cherish on the homestretch
beyond straggling frail in wretched kvetch?
Attempting life uncomplicated
in today’s screeching world unhinged
more so by each day, inundated
finding myself ever more fringed
Near drowning in dubiety
from which never sounds ‘all clear’
still lessens my anxiety
when in verse I persevere
Or when my disquietude brims
when shallow restlessness spikes
or whenever the outlook dims
I jump on one of my bikes
Quatrain strophes, pedal strokes allay
fleetingly nudge doomsday thoughts away
i medkänsla valhänt
Med min tid rundhänt
allt syntes väl förspänt
Nu gammal utbränd å utjänt
våndas av det osagda
Mens i nuet minst betjänt
av det obetänksamt sagda
Få ställen att gå
För mycket att greja
Motigt att förstå
För håglös att heja
Jag erbjöds en gång en livsviktig chans
men bortslarvad på livets stig nånstans