Not Poetry. Quatrain Verse in English & Swedish. Dagsverser. On the Mundane & the Arcane.
While us humans run around & gush
the tide rises, sets absent all rush:
Twice daily reversing
when forward surging
flows without rehearsing
by moon’s might urging
Waves rolling back & forth
never known ailing
not in sorrow or mirth
ever found wailing
Forward, retreated
To shore replete
to sea depleted:
Cycle complete
Is our human ambivalence unfeigned
perhaps as well celestially aligned?
Speedy thin ice skating
a dared dalliance
Perhaps fascinating
if as vain valiance?
When our nerve endings are worn
they’ll need most frequent jolts
When in the mundane forlorn
must keep upping the volts!
You have only use for those acts
or attempts captivating
which after hyped up to its max
shall still feel scintillating
in stale slogans-slinging babble
devoid of much style or sense
against us the struggling rabble
Here’s their campaign memoranda
First: Stoke our fear, greed & hopes
like in all good propaganda
aimed at us gullible dopes
Then: “In rightful belligerence
ride with us, shiny White Knights!
In utter sweet deliverance
“Reclaim our very birthrights!”
They keep us riled & incensed
in willful ignorance
so that we’re voting against
our own true interests
By holding up shiny Redux
they’re keeping us always in flux!
In these so called ‘debates’
we’re fed thin gruel
while opens all floodgates
to base & cruel
Those scripted ‘debaters’:
Mirage creators
in-the-wings dictators
slick myth narrators
Discombobulated
populace fretful
seen our hopes deflated
by priors fateful
Even so we keep up our drool
the sure fate of the hapless fool!
When in 2016 my spouse tried to get me to adopt a smart phone I told her that I already had a pacifier as a baby, that I hoped to live out my last year(s) head held high – not with my nose stuck on a tiny screen, and it’s ring being my command.
Turning me a smartphone
run-of-the-mill clone
good grief, I moan & groan
What’s next? A small drone?
Hyping of cyber connection
how’s that an act of affection?
I don’t hold any sway
Just ever more proof
of having zilch to say
Suspect I’m but a fool
probably prideful
Had hoped witty or cool
even insightful
Lies not here the opportunity
of picking a path harmonic
to great relief of community
and turn ever more laconic?
While she was quite resolute
maybe not all that astute?
Canning industry she chastised:
“Insufficient space between!
Way too crowded!”, she agonized,
“for each little canned sardine!”
Too narrowly focused
blazed away on her warpath
protests wreaked like locust
until grasped in aftermath:
Surely there’s more sardines crave
than mere space in their tin grave!
be the sole ‘adults’ these days
those who rarely are heard grumble
those few who’d rather shun praise?
Shouldn’t those ‘faking being modest’
be deserving of our wrath?
These days invasive as sawdust
how they’re clogging up our path!
Who is propelled by humility
when comes to piling worldly excess?
Tailwinds push truculently
on many roads avaricious
wide, they gleam luminously
leading to dead-ends pernicious
Seems mere flash of futility
when pushing too hard for success?
+)
-‘adult’ = an emotionally, mentally & socially mature person – seen many recently?
The sibilant sound of a ripe apple falling off the tree is amplified in the perfect stillness of our Anten homestead:
Sweet apple in its ripe prime
nature’s rites elegant
Summer brings on its show time
wordlessly eloquent!
When weighed down by their sap
apples’ tender stems snap
They drop in sound sibilant
flight paths most fleetingly
in wind stirred up jubilant
with apple subtlety
Amidst silence distinctly
a falling apple’s thud
shall be echoed succinctly
as well on grass as mud
Every Summer’s wondrous story
no event purely perchance
but of perfect trajectory
part of Nature’s flawless dance
+)
-Anten = a small community by the lake with the same name near Alingsås
While short time now remaining
got all time presently
(in real-time, without feigning)
to listen pleasantly
While I was listening
to understand too harebrained
my heart wasn’t enlisting
back when ample time remained
Could only have playacted
as feeling compassion
when so blithely distracted
not the youthful fashion
I’ve been clueless of a lot
but right now my ear you got