Not Poetry. Quatrain Verse in English & Swedish. Dagsverser. On the Mundane & the Arcane.
Watch him, in comfy chair, swivel:
Pontificates, pronounces
Spouts such tiresome piles of drivel
ridicules & denounces
Regurgitates like a pup
one which hungrily licks
up the breakfast just thrown up
in never changing fix
You’d think had he his wits
he would’ve called it quits!
When striving to grasp reality
how is it recognized if found
as surely abject futility
with life now in fantasy gowned?
Our personal credulity
shapes up what’s reality
Endless our gullibility
as we crave hyperbole
All faded to triviality
including hate’s lethality
Beware of life in frugality
hail corporate mentality!
Thus our personal immorality
became societal normality
They watch us picking our nose
in our homes, from outer space
when busy or just wiggling toes
without them leaving a trace
Surveillance is rarely benign
when able tighten our noose
our freedoms, influence decline
Cooked right now: Privacy’s goose
Never again shall our goose flap its wings
never mind how eternally hope springs
Haughty members officiate
in lofty paneled splendor
Each looking the initiate
though who knows mere pretender?
They bow down to Holy Economy
while in pseudoscience dalliance
suspiciously bit like astrology
in mantic Wall Street misalliance
With technocratic virtuosity
interprets the arcane, complaisant
with ceremonious pomposity
befitting Elite turned complacent
Of social justice little said
by those bailed out Capitalist banks
or of folks hanging by a thread
in desperation-filled serf-like ranks
While The Fed & other Elite conspire
to keep people down in debt-ridden mire
+)
-Fed = here: The Federal Reserve Bank. The ‘Central Bank’ of the United States & globally which claims to be independent while owned by banking interests
Agony fills our bones
while minds racing, our guts churn
like crawling on coarse stones
For change our heavy hearts yearn
Social bonds no longer prized
irreparably frayed
Everything commoditized
trust & manners decayed
In Empire’s Wars & Celeb Cultures
self-entitlement’s fierce fangs bared
turning us into whiny vultures
Only poverty deeply shared
Little of wisdom debated
or of shared humanity
Neighborhoods fearfully gated
in self absorbed vanity
M/V ‘America’ slipped its mooring
now tossing like a cork on roughest sea
Crew, brainwashed, chants: “Sea calm like flooring
we’re no sailor serfs but well fed & free”!
All but entertainment is a bore
so grant us bantering & glee
by those who us gullible adore:
The Celebs we so pine to be
But hold the laughs! Check the ship’s wake
the helmsman doesn’t know sailing
wake looks like a slithering snake
In bilges no one bailing
A nation on a cruise of illusion
course plotted by a Seasick Master
immune to Reality intrusion.
Just below horizon: Disaster!
Safe on the upper deck
proclaims The Power Elite:
“So what if looms a wreck
we own the whole lifeboat fleet!”
Valiant armchair warriors’ voices shrill
Treasury depleted by trillions
Hapless young soldiers sent to maim & kill
feckless foreigners by the millions
Though that ‘underwear bomb’ blew no hole
the Homeland Industry grows, rocks
A dud as well that ‘bomb in a sole’
still we’re here lined up in our socks
Here’s the ridiculous rub:
no more risk risk to fly
than slipping in your bathtub
Where did we go awry:
Distant countries laid in ruinous states
while TSA pats down our ample waists
Outlook darkly fossiliferous
of restraint we’re belligerent
In our pursuits carboniferous
of the future indifferent
No mere hubristic vanity
this despairing dissonance
but ’round the bend’ insanity
from which no deliverance!
While Icarus just didn’t watch the wax
we’re giving our whole species the axe
+)
Icarus = the classical hubris poster boy
Taking off for way up there high
Sleekly winged global bullies
their ‘spreading Freedom’ gone awry:
Creating more enemies.
Fuselage & uniforms gleaming
still each plane a deranged scorer.
While patriots cheering & beaming:
dropped bombs tear off limbs in horror.
The Nation Indispensable
turned the most reprehensible
+)
-winged global bullies = here: B-52 bombers
I did not become that leader of men
that mighty lion roaring in his den
Not pumped up enough my ego
or perhaps lacking gumption?
Feeling too stiff in tuxedo
or bothered by compunction?
Feeling guilty of indulging
while others ail & tumble?
Loath to proclaim with chest bulging
while trying to fake humble?
Too deficient a Philistine
to travel by limousine?
Too concerned with the unforeseen
bored with intrigues Byzantine?
Or perhaps, putz
just lacking guts?