Not Poetry. Quatrain Verse in English & Swedish. Dagsverser. On the Mundane & the Arcane.
What am I doing tomorrow?
Why? Busy right now today
not yet ready letting it go
not wilted yet its bouquet
Who am I meeting tomorrow?
Why? Met with someone today
must I suffer the same sorrow
of more demeaning affray?
Let’s await the next day’s dawn
before its worries we spawn
Overweight, over-entertained
we’re cowards uncritical
while toiling in soulless jobs drained
we hide apolitical
Can’t care about usurpation
or making the moral choice
cruelty no aberration
all bonds been loosened, rejoice!
In a society pernicious
we’re escaping to ‘worlds’ fictitious
Pounding a platitude
while pretending cool
Whilst stuck in servitude
we’re played for the fool
Off on the daily spree
tires burning, squealing
Why can’t we simply see
we’re Future stealing?
Our Species the real schmuck
running amok, denying
Knee deep in banal muck
telling ourselves we’re flying
We’re our own enabling muses
spouting asinine excuses
+)
servitude = here: to the oligarch/kakistocrat society
The entitled Power Elite
blocks us political hobbyists
so they grab more (rarely replete)
Can’t have us impede their lobbyists!
Power Elite schemes ambitiously
locks us in insecurity
Subjugating us perniciously
in childish immaturity
Greased by our own denial
their put-on smiles beaming:
“Go score in the shopping aisle
keep chasing stuff gleaming!”
+)
lobbyists = here: those professional ones hired by the power elite
In unstirring whiffed cottage jammed
stepping over those scattered
slumbering tightly, mushroomed, crammed
Surfaces gleam beer splattered
Morning of the young artist
tall still in hope, slim hipped
no 9-to-5 trudge ‘valse triste’
bearing still straight, rose lipped
Indolent black cats stir both
white pawed, green marbled eyes
now stretching, compassion loath
killers in cutesy guise
Morning dawns subliminal
in night’s lingering haze
Above rocks ravinial
sun’s first tenuous rays
From above stillness violated
through mufflers crescendo aggrieved
dawn’s purity adulterated
nature of her stillness bereaved
+)
-from above = here: from the road above the gulch
-ravinial = (by license) anything in or of a ravine
To the grocery store goes the hike
after writing a daily verse
Then rolling several blocks by bike
All his adventures short & terse
All gets squeezed in between breathing
finding glasses, wiggling toes
admiring a baby’s teething
plus doors to open & close
Still time before dinner calls
steadfastly without fail
to (just before darkness falls)
take out the garbage pail
Life’s rich feast has turned thin gruel
what a feeble, dismal show!
How’s retirement such a jewel?
Would you tell me if you know?
In ever worsening malfunction
humanity heads the wrong way
Amidst dialectic dysfunction
society turns disarray
Just can’t allow my mind turn lazy
when my heart pounds rapidly, sad
Just won’t do living a life crazy
be it our Species going mad
As life for some of meager pleasure
it won’t do to just vote ‘present’
Life is still the abundant treasure
to be lamented if misspent.
Imagine my surprise finding Joyce just standing there without doing anything:
An eerily uncommon sight
a state ghostly, ignoble
like forgetting lines in stage fright
Joyce found herself immobile:
Once flustered face paling ashen
of all direction confused
never before been her fashion
to let seconds pass unused
Aptly portrays the frozen mime
of biblical ‘Ruth-to-salt’:
“Oh my G-d, this can’t be but I’m
turned to pillar by default!”
Most bitter pill to swallow
a solid day turned hollow …
+)
-Joyce = my wife
-Ruth = Lot’s wife who turned a pillar of salt (Genesis 19:26)
Seas roaring, winds howling
Shredded clouds racing
under dark skies scowling
Wild whitecaps chasing
Above clean blown ocean
fowl soaringly strewn
sail in spray splashed motion
below moody moon
Crashing on to stolid rocks
waves implode, plundering
Washing over creaking docks
winds in gusts thundering
Watching in deep emotion
stirred by my life far flung
on wild waves of commotion
by raging regrets stung
My own past as well
been too windswept
then calmed in slow swell
relieved I wept
+)
-swell = the undulating movement of the surface of the open sea; particularly non-breaking waves following a storm
Western media apoplectic
and frantically out of breath
but their ‘coverage’ anorectic
unless the elite’s shibboleth
Pouring on the propaganda
with aggressive intention
on to Russia’s own veranda
in wanton intervention
The U.S. hardly the arbiter
in the global ‘regime change’ chase
rather appears as the harbinger
of the end to the human race
With ruinous war-waging technology
while minds mired in ‘Won the West’ mythology