Not Poetry. Quatrain Verse in English & Swedish. Dagsverser. On the Mundane & the Arcane.
Small boys & girls darting on bikes
untiringly they explore
in streets, trekking on backyard hikes
“Watch me! watch me!”, they implore
Hover their ‘hood tiny voices’
Each moment full of movement
in Summer’s endless play choices
Movement fills every moment
Fully one with the moment
Life’s ultimate bestowment
Rushing is so much fresh fun
as ‘my sweet life’ has just started
must have a great rat race run
for which I’ll fight lionhearted
Life ought not ask anything from me
exect to enjoy indulging!
Just love staying busy, can’t you see
cupboards, debt & midriff bulging
Out of breath, speech smattered
need to somehow find more time!
Heart & mind all scattered
got no time to waste on rhyme!
In Ballard bicycle tires don’t puncture
Streets are ballroom smooth with curbs of foam
Cars wait politely at every juncture
Welcome to where electric bikes roam!
It’s where perennial tailwinds blow
and helmets won’t flatten your hairdo
+)
Ballard = the Seattle neighborhood where our e-bike shop is still located
Through 4-way stops
flashy cars glide by
past cutesy shops
Below happy sky:
Honk, honk
check my new wheels
clonk, clonk
watch my new heels
Bodies fit or sagging
Kids dragging, lagging
Spouses hugging, nagging
Machos swag, bragging
Watch both bouncing soft belly guts
& perfect bodies with boards
stepping out from their daily ruts
the beach culture’s serfs & lords
While lacking existential traction
dwell fleetingly in rhapsody!
Beyond ‘daily grind’ satisfaction
what fun albeit fantasy!
On Fridays before dawn
us cans are back at the curb
on the strip by the lawn:
A recycling cheering blurb
Listening for the garbage truck
while we’re bulging overfilled
how exciting, again in luck
now on our street, we’re all thrilled!
We get lifted, shook, tumbled
our bearings & loads lost
Elated, swiftly jumbled
back on to the curb tossed
Lids left open, gaping
happens every week
There is no escaping
recycling’s mystique!
+)
canster = a can being a member of a recycling ‘blurb’
They talk about, talk, talk about & talk
boorishly self absorbed trivia
whether they drive, shop, do rest room & walk
wherever & in Bolivia
Unfazed they are letting it all hang out
where may quietness be found at all?
excitedly they gush, prattle & spout
letting us overhear every call.
Listening less than talking & talking
puzzled by the outside objection
whether they’re eating, sleeping or stalking
love that ring or ting: got connection!
+)
‘smartphony’ = someone who traded his or her pacifier (a gateway drug) for a smart phone, and are under the illusion that it bestows unique importance & efficiency with few trade-offs
They watch us picking our nose
in our homes, from outer space
when busy or just wiggling toes
without them leaving a trace
Surveillance is rarely benign
when able tighten our noose
our freedoms, influence decline
Cooked right now: Privacy’s goose
Never again shall our goose flap its wings
never mind how eternally hope springs
In the early 1920’s through mid 40’s era:
Arm straight at 45 degrees, empty palm down, with jaw jutted upward aligned with arm. Transfixed on Il Duce or Der Fuhrer. Practiced by tens of millions, saluting those fascist unsavory squirts in their black or brown shirts, who stirred up the desperate masses.
In the current era:
Around 90 degrees between upper and lower arm, palm up,
hand slightly rotated inward, head slightly turned with jaw tilted downward.
Transfixed on The Screen. Practiced by billions of distracted, desperate masses some of whom may spend a significant portion of their income on their smarter-than-them phones, which further enrich huge corporations:
Being stuck on Fantasy’s Screen
like Narcissus focused on his bod
blind to how they fervidly preen
twittering away in ‘nose glued’ plod
But come on, try a detached look:
boorish, self centered banality
living life liking on Facebook
substituting for Reality
In both eras: poses thought beyond cool
Unless one is a ‘nonconformist fool’
+)
-Il Duce = Benito Mussolini, ruler of Fascist Italy 1922-43
-Der Fuhrer = Adolf Hitler, ruler of Fascist Germany 1934-45
Remote entry lights flash, honking horn
just to get into one’s own car?!
Am I the only one left forlorn?
Ain’t this too much, taken too far?
Anywhere left to go to be spared
all that talking, beeping, tinging?
Tell me: Must all ‘happy’ noise be shared
must our ears be buzzing, ringing?
What happened to just plain driving
spared electronic conniving?
Seattle 2012:
Wars, global warming or plight of the poor?
No, paper bags soon 5 cents at the store!
A situation turned dire
that aroused citizens’ ire
And no bags plastic hurt them to the core!