Not Poetry. Quatrain Verse in English & Swedish. Dagsverser. On the Mundane & the Arcane.
Our attention constantly battered
self exiled in banality
Our senses confounded & scattered
as we forsake Reality
Suction cup noses on screen
absorbed, infatuated
as we adoringly preen
haven’t we got debilitated!
Even so many a fool
finding it all oh so cool!
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?
Scarab beetles, unsung
fashion nifty balls
roll swiftly home the dung
on star-guided crawls
No need or reason, none at all
got GPS in our cars
for humans to roll any ball
guided by heavenly stars
Like human greed propels
depletion & pollution
our hubris ever swells
assuring retribution
The beetle may still roll its ball
when humans lack clean water
frantic we’ll trash about & crawl
seas rising, climate hotter
+)
Scarab beetle:
https://www.livescience.com/26557-dung-beetles-navigate-stars.html
Drilling by heedless fracking
oil is pumped emetic
keeps refineries cracking
in a race frenetic
Now, not until 2030
spills and plastic clog our gills
Earth’s water supply fouled dirty
leaves us sipping noxious spills
Now, not only by 2080
in climate catastrophe rife
comeuppance merciless & weighty
Humans left to horrific strife
Unreflective on how affronts amass:
Hubristic Humanity so crass
keeps making the inappropriate pass
Mother Earth is a virtuous lass
+)
-2030 = read: twentythirty
Valiant armchair warriors’ voices shrill
Treasury depleted by trillions
Hapless young soldiers sent to maim & kill
feckless foreigners by the millions
Though that ‘underwear bomb’ blew no hole
the Homeland Industry grows, rocks
A dud as well that ‘bomb in a sole’
still we’re here lined up in our socks
Here’s the ridiculous rub:
no more risk risk to fly
than slipping in your bathtub
Where did we go awry:
Distant countries laid in ruinous states
while TSA pats down our ample waists
She: “Recently been thinking a little about the Meaning of Life …”
He: “Honey, why we don’t we google it?”
Boundless affinity for distraction
in vain attempts to handle it all
knee jerks to superficial attraction
one click away or found at the mall
But to lessen Life’s steady pains
must we not all squarely face
how helplessly our vigor drains
caught in Reckoning’s stern gaze?
while our lives us increasingly perplex
by hi-tech growing evermore complex
Set upon by darkening squall
in deep, murky waters we trawl
Keyboards clatteringly tapped
without effort or strain
Human memory lapped, gapped
does save time, while lulls brain
By smart devices electronic
bodies slumping catatonic
Instant searches counter-mnemonic
in tasks often histrionic:
Netting but victories Pyrrhic
as online joy fades dysphoric
Who might you be to berate?
Hold your holy holler!
My sorting aim simple, straight:
paper clips by color
To you perhaps a clip mere wire
cavalierly curved metal
its ingeniousness won’t inspire
or found lacking its mettle?
While to me colored paper clips
strew paths like do rose petals
May distract like succulent lips
Prove gallantry like medals
But then I, like the clips, I consent
am as well of a peculiar bent