Not Poetry. Quatrain Verse in English & Swedish. Dagsverser. On the Mundane & the Arcane.
Make sure to keep any facts
freely adjustable
In case they restrain your acts
make them combustible
No need to succumb
Treat facts tentatively
for favored outcome
use them lenitively
For evidence is no more facts
than your esteemed opinion!
They needn’t impede your desired act
so don’t grant them dominion!
So if you’ve got a brain
keep facts on a tight rein
+)
-facts = evidence; “Factual evidence, since it is an impediment to what we desire, is banished.” – Chris Hedges
“All options are on the table!”
Beltway adulterated
phrase, a repeated worn fable
brainwashed, acculturated
Elite chattering
with scrounged-up oompf
in self-flattering
here goes, harrumph:
Blurting the same old canned phrase
(like talking dolls with battery)
piling on Empire’s proud praise
amidst harsh weapons clattery
Virtuous Officialdom
sure to expunge Evil
They stand up for Christendom
and Freedom’s Retrieval!
Those hard toiling ribboned Elite elves
they simply just cannot help themselves
+)
ribboned = here: honored with service ribbons, medals, awards etc
Ever iridescent
loftily Perfection soars
allure effervescent
unmoved by she who implores
Through ages in vain beseeched
humans have grasped for Perfection
Hotly pursued, rarely reached
adamant in its rejection
Crimped as by pitiless pliers
or hammered flat on anvil, yammered
then thrown in to rejection’s fires
Still pursues our species enamored
then thrown in to rejection’s fires.
Still pursues our species enamored.
Down yet another alley
on yet another day
by yet another sally
stirring another fray
Such manner leads us astray
Let’s tread another pathway:
One that lets us live life caring
not taking but in giving
Our predator teeth not baring
Not blaming but forgiving!
+)
giving = also: the quality or state of being resilient
Turmoil churns nocturnally
contorted internally:
Flooded by angst at night
Clock on night table stands still
No way out, left or right!
While under thick blanket chill
After toss & turn til dawn
face the day, get a grip!
Though eyes blurred, facial hue wan
must try to right the ship
Rising in to the day’s noise
we must try to gather poise
By remorse acquainted
have tried paint over my past
but by past I’m tainted
so the gloss just would not last
My body dinged, dented
mind mushed, fermented
my poor soul tormented
A Life repented
On Life’s ladder I wobble estranged
fear being put in the ground unchanged
Through Neoliberal contortion
said to ‘free us’ from solidarity
we thrash about in self absorption
in loneliest of insularity
But the ‘freed’ claim is specious
far from innocent gaffe
nor is the claim facetious
since on us is the laugh!
If we don’t fight together
that fierce One Percent Bunch
for sure (not about ‘whether’)
shall devour us for lunch!
+)
-One Percent Bunch = the Power Elites (more like ‘point one percent’) who are stealing our economic, social and environmental commons, by the methods of Neoliberalism
Thinking ourselves mettlesome
while merely meddlesome?
Polite hopefully to some
to others nettlesome?
Would seem self-awareness
these days turned rareness
as must include fairness
& risk-filled bareness?
Perhaps we don’t have the druthers
to see ourselves like do others?