Not Poetry. Quatrain Verse in English & Swedish. Dagsverser. On the Mundane & the Arcane.
Din of metal pushing through air
nostrils flared from tail pipe spew
Tires squealing, engines roar, horns blare
as traffic mounts tempers brew
Snug in ‘my cell phone booth on wheels’
who bothers about traffic?
Electronic Heaven appeals
am perfectly seraphic!
Til someone cuts me off of course
purloined civility shorn
then I turn deep-rootedly coarse
hanging dumbly on the horn
+)
metal = here: vehicles
An exercise in civility?
No, we opt for instant reprieve
devolves in wordy futility
from ‘Holy’ takes decisive leave
Yield to that gut surging pull
again cheaply thrilling
to chomp beyond feeling full
of slumming in swilling?
In what lies the attraction
of gorging & natter
of shattering distraction
din of verbal clatter?
rushes the frantic fool
dizzy, common sense dented
like a kid out of school
We’re unfazed
hasty, dazed
our eyes glazed
all sense razed
Aroused to love romantic
what thrilling perception
our life’s unrivaled antic
of passion, deception
A game by a Creator ‘demented’
assures new generations tormented
She’s wrapped in haute couture
a mere distractive detour
as with purloined demure
she’s all exigent allure
So if you can’t withstand seduction
your fallback may be harm reduction
+)
-harm reduction = a public health strategy that was developed initially for adults for whom additction abstinence does not seem feasible
Decision making worth not one iota
wobbling, am yet again straddling the fence
Long since depleted my green house gas quota
The same old dead end dance: Ambivalence
Why another near speed of sound detour
thirty thousand feet above the ground?
Tell me, what’s conceivably the allure?
In Life where am I really bound?
Am no longer a sightseer
as found the ‘there’ over there
would no more enrich or endear
than does the ‘here’ back home here
So there, er, here!
Though abundance never suffices
its pursuit seems never to cease
The allure still prods & entices
despite only restraint grants peace
The self’s ceaseless rebellion
rules in full out attack
The ego is the hellion
playing up to the claque
Impatience seems the slave
to the mind scattered
chases us to the grave
as lives blown tattered
My tepid thoughts shiver
quintessentially
Its conclusions quiver
inferentially
Then like light squall
sweeping gust
in fleeting thrall
comes distrust
Gathering breeze
brings a chill
more ill at ease
than ill will
Is my mind chagrined
by happenstance
scattering downwind
by circumstance?
Or just dueling with dementia
while distracted by dyslexia?
Once young, when in Djibouti
Life Herself in the guise
of an enchanting beauty
gave him her deep well eyes
But she feigned not giving a hootie
when while blushing he praised her wrap
She pretended coy, cool & snooty
flustered, he could only tip his cap
Callow, thought he’d been rejected
so he told himself: retreat!
To a dive bar he defected
to nurse his awkward defeat
Under blistering sun in zenith
back later aboard his freighter
with in his sweltering bunk beneath
hangover on the equator
Once again hoists anchor his ship
such is life of the drunken sailor:
Off on another lonely trip
he sails away as his own jailer
+)
-Djibouti = a port on the southern entrance to the Red Sea
-freighter = cargo ship
Watch the ephemeral waves
on oceans eternal
those wary warrior braves
their persistence vernal
Days raced in the froth of my youth
like driven waves, white capping
while now I’m a laggardly sleuth
usually caught napping
Am a poseur among knaves
a most tiresome recluse
one who cowers from the waves
gushing pretexts profuse
Flotsam on stormy ocean
oblivious, obtuse
swept in howling commotion
in existence abstruse
+)
-flotsam = floating wreckage
Flows impassibly
the eternal refrain
stains irascibly:
Life’s suffering & pain
How we seethe
in temptation
How we breathe
for redemption
Both fear & hope us urge
in unyielding distinction
back & forth on the verge
very soon now: Extinction
Life let’s us fleetingly think we have won
while it controls when each of us is done