In her chair she’d swivel
pontificating
with much inane drivel
alienating
But as she’s the boss
I make my eyes glisten
can’t handle job loss
that thought jolts in frisson
and so goes yet another day
in the cutthroat corporate fray
Not Poetry. Quatrain Verse in English & Swedish. Dagsverser. On the Mundane & the Arcane.
In her chair she’d swivel
pontificating
with much inane drivel
alienating
But as she’s the boss
I make my eyes glisten
can’t handle job loss
that thought jolts in frisson
and so goes yet another day
in the cutthroat corporate fray
Outrage of neoliberalism
seems to have taken the backseat
(as well the fear of proto-fascism)
for the ‘neo-pronoun elite’:
Stray on the neo-pronoun path
where they self-righteously prance
we risk get mauled by minions’ wrath
in their identity dance
Their chase for the proper pronoun
shall seemingly never slow down
My poor aging body
a ramshackle shack
Now worn down & shoddy
emitting pained yack
Whenever it moves around
ailments reveal therein
Feels beat down, close to breakdown
that’s life of the has-been
Now it’s only left for us to treasure
how in our prime it bestowed such pleasure
At early dawn released, relieved
from limp grip of shallow sleep
coming to on planet aggrieved
facing day’s challenges steep
Not invigorated
mind, conscience shaky
hope debilitated
legs & joints achy
These days sleep since too long adulterated
each morning feeling more attenuated
They’re selling us the chimerical
offering head-in-sand snugness
no wonder I’m anti-clerical
intolerable their smugness
Trying to steer us out on their dance
they tolerate no rejection
show arrogance from first to last glance
cannot fathom our rejection
Rather than lead-by-nose acolyte
prefer to stand on my own upright
At those pedestrian crossings striped
cantankerous drivers of ‘tanks’
impatiently stopped, while sometimes griped
about walkers’ deficient thanks
Obsequious must be walkers may
it’s in U.S culture, of course
prevailing attitude holding sway:
Need respect only size & force!
Thus most backward to yield
when we are the large-wheeled
+)
‘tanks’ = here: ever larger cars, SUVs et al
At 23 I’m a sage
have flown convention’s cage
Doing great, thanks, on Life’s stage
have long since turned the page!
So what, my social life is a wreck
why even try to act mature
as wasted when working in high tech
who’d notice, so where’s the allure?
but would you even have a hunch
what size my paycheck & free lunch?
Eager to engender dialogue
anxious for us all to connect
Trapped in someone’s mulish monologue
in vain trying to interject
While most the time in vain
and for this I’m given flack
Am found rude & inane
by those haranguing their claque
Rarely have I found that such a bore
relinquishes his/her purloined floor
Spouting loud & prolific
those quips brought up galore
be they seldom specific
can still inflict ‘earsore’
As quips propound they obfuscate
do not frame for clarity
but contrarily dissipate
lack focus on verity
While attempts quatrain verse
to cut to the core
to speak sparsely & terse
Such contrary chore …
… to fit into rhymed space
with some semblance of grace
Claiming peace of mind in ‘any’ place
such silly presumptive prattle
Sure, in cities blessed by luck or grace
be they Stockholm or Seattle
Quite another kettle of fish, uh
if in Gaza or Mogandishu?