Not Poetry. Quatrain Verse in English & Swedish. Dagsverser. On the Mundane & the Arcane.
Could have had solidarity
rather than indignity
engaged in jocularity
rather than malignity
Our Species is lost in denial
thinking we alone in control
but shows us up as suicidal
when created our own sinkhole
But Humans falling extinct
shall rejuvenate Earth
summed up here in phrase succinct:
Nature shall romp in mirth!
We keep suffering iniquity
by greedy ‘power elite’ blithe
Brutish plight predates antiquity
scythed powerless humans still writhe
Implacably each ‘people’s savior’
shall feel uniquely appointed
But let’s assess our own behavior:
We allow being exploited!
True change doesn’t somehow happen out there
but through risk filled action by ‘us’ here
Aren’t facts just too complicated, taking too much time & effort to uncover & verify? Do I need anyone to tell me what MY facts should be? Surely, fairer & easier for each of us just to make them up as we need them:
Read about them in the tabloids
plied by ‘anything goes’ hacks
Elsewhere commonly called factoids
dressed up as we need them ‘facts’
The Net thrills in profligacy
of excitement refulgent
Be it doubtful efficacy
enabling those indulgent
Who’s got guts to be resolute
sort out all that’s annoying
in these our sweet times dissolute
brimmed with the innate, cloying?
Hence we spill what pops into mind
as insight of reflected kind!
Does our watching those celebs
so wealthy & carefree
clear our drudgery’s cobwebs
thin out boredom’s debris?
Seen how, say, grocery clerks
carry on like show hosts
setting off verbal fireworks
with check-out line ripostes?
Do talk shows model us folks?
Or do talk shows inform
manipulate, joke & coax
us in how to perform?
… keeping up the banter in ubiquity
in a tiresome culture of obliquity
Unthinkingly the blowhard
old fogy and diehard
keeps chasing every canard
blown across his barnyard
He’s prone to swinging the axe
before checking out the facts
+)
-canard = an unfounded rumor or story; a baseless, usually derogatory story or report
-facts = as in ‘factual evidence’ – to be ignored when perceived as standing in our way
we’re o so elegant
with such a crisp locution
albeit ignorant
Ours a fantasy cure-all
shiny but shortsighted
superficial with much gall
impotent, benighted
Hence one more ‘pretend solution’
sure to fail in execution
Eyes locked on that Holy Grail
til death: Entertainment!
Gladly we’ll go off the rail
chasing its obtainment
Lessons dismissed, thus unlearned
Can’t pull back from the fray
repeated hangovers spurned!
So here’s another day:
to pursue that noble endeavor
of being entertained forever!
As nostalgia torments
in downpour mistfully
then anemoia augments
in dankness wistfully
Yearnings seize us listfully
churning in eerie whistle
Longings languish fistfully
pounce in zinging sizzle
But why to murky feelings abide
when today awaits saddled to ride?
makes us viewed ‘opinionated’
But glossaries too overweening
& leave us intimidated!
Are words merely something we say?
So might as well be snappy
no need for syntax to obey
Let them roam free & happy!
Are words just something we utter
in verbose clutter & din?
Let them frivolously flutter
& cascade freed from chagrin?
Have words gotten just something we say?
Besides who are listening anyway?
In 2016 Hillary Clinton treated voters like neglected dogs, which even so should somehow be expected to happily wave their tails at her. After all one of her slogans mightily presumed: “It’s her turn!’. Some of these long suffering dogs bit her instead.
While low were voter expectations
So what? Been so for generations
Bleak, tawdry that election
discourse stuck inchoate
while she was the selection
of Israel, Kuwait
Worn people like soggy dogs
tails tween legs, buzzed by fleas
on muddy slippery slogs
shook off Hillary’s bees
Campaign’s debates were largely disingenuous
the candidate’s grip on Reality tenuous