Not Poetry. Quatrain Verse in English & Swedish. Dagsverser. On the Mundane & the Arcane.
They walk in Summer weather gorgeous beyond words (at least mine) but seems can’t refrain from ogling their smart phone screens
Roundly outsmarted by their phones
amidst billions fellow clones:
Do they watch sky’s shades of blue
listening to winds rustling leaves
while price checking household glue
or how to foil those cat food thieves?
Are their lives adhering to plans
getting soon to driving that Benz?
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?
I vad som kan kallas
kanske en arvsrätt
t.o.m åkallas
inom viss folkrätt:
I Frankrike ingen bagatell
att var morgon äta sej mätt
i sed djupt förankrad kulturell
på en nybakad färsk baguette
som varje morgon nationellt
bakas fullkomligt manuellt
Brittle leaves, yellow, cerise
swirling, sailing, glowing
in boisterous chilly breeze
mischievously blowing
Flashing sun rays dash around
lightening Fall in dance
Intrepid trees soon ungowned
below sky’s swept expanse
In windblown farewell leaves leave worn
bare branches left to stretch forlorn
When the times feel overweening
we are promptly convening
us powerless, start house cleaning
Way to make sense, find meaning?
But to scrub off of common surface grime
way easier than power elite’s slime
Wondrous solace of stillness
eludes us without fail
when electronic shrillness
pierces through nature’s veil
Might one of those clueless clods
(who with such hapless abandon
plugs in their stylish ear pods)
find for Net surfing a stand-in?
How without stillness & solitude
shall we re-connect with rectitude?
While proven wrong
myths been cemented
by now since long
turned minds demented
Fantasies sweet sented
in hapless hyperbole
excuses invented
passed off as reality
In exceptionalism denuded
by ignorance & fear deluded
On early mornings hares small brownish
and turn-on-dime squirrels forage
seen bolting out from bushes clownish
seeking replenish their storage
While with each pedal stroke
I’ve been spared from: Silliness
blared presumption of ‘woke’
as well PC frilliness
One passing rider even got so elated
that she ventured a ‘Good Morning!’: How outdated!
In support tepid but benign
on front lawns still a smatter
of that virtue-signalling sign
that somehow ‘Black Lives Matter’
But are we radically
finally willing attend to
not just sporadically
beyond the yard sign ballyhoo?
Are we committed to follow through
turning around what’s long overdue?
Behind plush home compound’s locks
stacked portfolio of stocks
and in the driveway
a monstrous vehicle
true to the cliche
monomaniacal
Enthroned sitting high up
me, entitled little elf
on my cell, with my pup
looking well after myself
On path unswerving
how well deserving!