Not Poetry. Quatrain Verse in English & Swedish. Dagsverser. On the Mundane & the Arcane.
Among Lands of Hesperia
elites in the DC area
as well in they Bay Area
they are all gripped by hysteria
Blinded by hypocrisy
people fooled we’ve democracy
while owned by plutocracy
and ruled by kakistocracy
While out of touch with reality
thinking somehow we’re praiseworthy
we bask in heedless hyperbole
telling others they’re blameworthy
In that ‘shining city on the hill’
conceited we carry on at will!
Sam, a 17 y.o. grandson, did a ‘hat trick’:
There was this footballer named Sam
who swiftly went bam, bam & bam
All without a hair out place
what a cool, good looking ace
Poor goalie could not do a damn
+)
hat trick = scoring three goals in one match
How happily I’m hounded
by persistent a muse
so gratefully astounded
enthusing out the blues
Am a tree happily barked up
by inspiration infused
It’s brimming over my cracked cup
foamy verbiage suffused
Verses may be pathetic
in pace peripatetic
The language mere cosmetic
both opaque & bathetic
Delivery homiletic
its effect anesthetic
While response found apathetic
why be apologetic?
Very few poets a Byron
or Shakespeare or Neruda
Very few women a siren
and few gurus a Buddha
So what? Won’t us short on talent
at least attempt to be gallant?
A puzzling precedent
when the Elites coalesce
round a past President
and craftily reassess:
Ain’t Bush2, the Iraq war criminal,
well on way on his own road liminal?
+)
liminality = (Latin līmen: a threshold) is the quality of ambiguity that occurs in the middle stage of a rite of passage, when participants no longer hold their pre-ritual status but have not yet begun the transition to the status they will hold when the rite is complete
On early mornings hares small brownish
and turn-on-dime squirrels forage
seen bolting out from bushes clownish
seeking replenish their storage
While with each pedal stroke
I’ve been spared from: Silliness
blared presumption of ‘woke’
as well PC frilliness
One passing rider even got so elated
that she ventured a ‘Good Morning!’: How outdated!
How come that I never tire
pedaling up such steepish hills?
Cause I get to blow off ire
while experiencing these thrills:
A calm mind blessed autonomous
Spared just tagging along sleepishly
on a life’s path synonymous
with over-consuming sheepishly
As well, be it fleetingly, spared the noises
of exigent contrived marketing voices
Sloth congeals the erstwhile heart tender
when mired in petty transactions
misses out on Life’s wondrous splendor
dissipates in dumb distractions
So dare go for that fling
pull hard the bow’s string
decline that gadget thing
avoid the Right Wing
Don’t thoughtlessly conform
or recklessly barnstorm!
Under tire in front
at cheerful clip
goes the hurried hunt
for pavement strip
Gliding below trees pendulous
bestows us joy eternal
pedaling in Spring blessedness
hugged by miracle vernal
In peace of heart & mind
beyond most other kind
in seasonal change without doubt or struggle
mutually elated with each others charms
the seasons change glowing in loving snuggle
That’s how it flows in Nature Harmonious
while Human interplay acrimonious
Behind plush home compound’s locks
stacked portfolio of stocks
and in the driveway
a monstrous vehicle
true to the cliche
monomaniacal
Enthroned sitting high up
me, entitled little elf
on my cell, with my pup
looking well after myself
On path unswerving
how well deserving!