Not Poetry. Quatrain Verse in English & Swedish. Dagsverser. On the Mundane & the Arcane.
As we blew the chance of controlling
the Virus from gaining traction
When copped out on masking, patrolling
Mother Earth took cogent action:
She let the Virus do for its survival
what Humans ought to have done for its own
Failing to learn from our Species revival
we’re left pretending: ‘How could we have known’?
Yet again the Price of Neglect rarely
gets imposed timely but always fairly
If we hide in a comfy niche
we’ll fade attenuated
risking wake up wet in a ditch
pretty humiliated
While mired in same old rut
domesticated
tempting to staying put
stuck obligated
So why grin in stale attire?
Let’s dress to our heart’s desire!
True change is implacable
trade-offs it shall extract
often proves intractable
with long lasting impact
So leap gallantly, gladly
or we’ll forgo Life badly!
before the virus pounced
would we be in ‘house arrests’?
Life as we knew it trounced?
While for scientists problematic
since turned inept & erratic
by boastful meddling trumplematic
while his base cheers on ecstatic!
Of such noble creed & greed
how come ‘leadership’ lackluster?
Why won’t this Virus pay heed
to blaming, bully & bluster?
While humans poorly embrace
uncertainty iniquitous
forced to stoutheartedly face
our misgivings ubiquitous
Whether Covid-19
or Climate Collapse
slow down or turned routine
or raucous relapse
While seldom do few seconds elapse
when we’re spared marketing & wiretaps
in midst of bathetic prattle
Now, who would have guessed?
Found dead, travel attired
clutching to his chest
Swedish passport expired
The world had once been his to roam
died a wizened homebody gnome
In cowardly beat-ups
Hope hangs on the ropes
pummeled without letups
by heedless dopes
Humans are on the tightrope
while mouthing learned response
same old soap opera trope:
Escapist nonchalance
If we truly wanted out of this loop
why do we still chose this lowly to stoop?
I’ve gone bald
too often galled
mostly stalled
no longer called
Turned too old
no longer bold
feeling cold
soon now I’ll fold
and were it not for those wondrous jokes
would think life might be a horrid hoax
Like amongst butterflies
in balmy winds blown
Embraced in warm sunrise
midst melting rays flown
In ascent
freed from ferment
Am content
without lament
Claims she’s a ‘happy medium’
while seems on life’s tepid voyage lost
Self-corralled in tired tedium
chasing distraction at any cost
Too long mired in routines repetitious
to try launch any changes auspicious?
Earth of such bounty & beauty
we reduced it to mere booty
Don’t we fake most everything
traipsing on the brink of collapse
while fantasy worshiping
subjects us to bizarre relapse?
Out of touch with Life’s essence
we hasten Earth’s senescence
We’re wringing out our own life
while striving to be ‘safe’
in blind, self-entitled strife
neglecting the poor waif
We may find redemption
if we own up and then cease
No-let-slide exemption
fills a turmoiled heart with peace
If life entails morality
how serves us then banality?