Not Poetry. Quatrain Verse in English & Swedish. Dagsverser. On the Mundane & the Arcane.
Situation turns precarious
as Sole Super Power crumbles
Scary, while outright hilarious
how its Power Elite stumbles
Exceptionalism losing gloss
down to bare metal, corroding fast
World sneers at former presumed boss
History shows: Empires never last
Fading, ever steeped in arrogance
Super Power tries to butt in
Civilization won’t stand a chance
when someone presses The Button:
Humans yields to cockroaches its powers
as planet swirls, a space ball that glowers
Flowers tiny
Cushy carpets of tiny flowers are growing in our Spring backyard:
In simplicity arrayed
egalitarian
white & green colors cascade
clarions’s clarity
Swaying in pendulum play
with Springtime’s chilly breeze
Dancing precision ballet
harmonious their ease
Each flower a mere sliver
petals in slightest shiver
edited 09/13/22 2100
As Western propaganda
keeps glowering vitriolic
beware its memoranda:
Cast Putin as diabolic!
Rarely hifalutin
like Netanyahu and Trump
the more astute Putin
won’t join on their distraught stump
Tell me, why this mythos
Russia as ‘adversary’?
What’s so amiss with us
that makes this necessary?
Perhaps Russia must be blameworthy
so that The West can look praiseworthy?
As the morning dawns
a next day announcing
We’re ready, poor pawns
for another trouncing
But when I get myself versed
there’s air under my wings
Not ensnared, slogging cursed
among prosaic things
Lightens the day’s burden in trade-off
when starts off with a rhyming take-off
+)
well versed = here: able to write a fair verse
Mänskors hjärtan kalla
pumpar obevekade
vårt prylbegär svalla
mens lagom förnekande
Är ej vår grunkfullhet
blott knökad tomhet?
Vår självgoda klipskhet
dundrande dumhet?
Vi stack klimatet i lågor
genom slarvig girighet
ställer till skräckfyllda plågor
genom tarvlig tanklöshet
Bland jordelivets fåfänglighet
slår mången en onödig pryl
liksom vår egen anstötlighet
som av hästsparkande rekyl
I vår inkrökta trångsynthet
arvet till barnen: Trolöshet!
Ungdommens fyrverkeri:
när det blixtrade å smällde
välkommen kakofoni
när förtjusade vi drällde
Men blev snart gammalt:
nu ej långt kvar
på Livets anstalt
Fann vi nått svar?
Inget. Världsalltets gåta
låter sej ej inlåta
A people’s contention
elite harshly circumscribes
by sternest convention
to inhibit ‘diatribes’
Power elite unsightly
never brooks true order:
We must submit contritely
to their own disorder
The elite bombards us with dubiety
pretending they’re acting with propriety
Sure we have our druthers
so let’s disaffect:
Who cares about others
why be circumspect?
No need genuflect
steel yourself brash
Ignore self-respect
live life slapdash!
Don’t any attempts to be kind
end up putting us in a bind?
As loosen my Life’s moorings
I watch flowers unceasingly
awake in early mornings
my awe deepens increasingly
Long since I sailed close to capsize
on choppy seas of rancor
Now til blurry shores of demise
not long til weighing anchor
Until comes such time, veiled in mystery
striving to live now, not in history
Our poor Earth worn
since long turn leery
from too much scorn
by humans dreary
Sure looking up?
Nary hope
we’re in pileup
you dim dope!
So do look ahead
to soon dropping dead!