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By corporate thrill fulfilled?

For phantom power & glitz
sold himself as a tool
hoping that his obsequence
pleased CEO cruel

A hapless well dressed lackey
who smiles kind of smugly
though presents himself wacky
worshipingly rugly

Couldn’t hew the bottom line agenda
so he tripped up (by lacking gall)
on the corporate hacienda!
But got up, crawled back & didn’t bawl

Awash in quarterly profits bosses drool
still justify sack lackey just before yule

+)
-yule = here: period Dec 24-Jan 06
-‘rugly’ = (made up): as in ‘Go ahead, Madame or Sir, do walk all over me!’

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In hypnotic daze to task ordained

She’s so superbly kinetic
stands ready to whack the weed
Stillness a painful emetic
she functions best at high speed

She’s perpetually Joyce
when invaded by task
never knows another choice
but in busy to bask

Takes off in a blaze
her face stern, drained
in hypnotic daze
to task ordained

Hers is always total focus
until all the effort spent
Then changes in phone booth locus
back, but briefly, to Claire Kent

+)
-Claire Kent = superwoman in civvies, equivalent (at least) of Clark Kent

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Flailing words of squawk & schlock

Mortal Socrates and Jesus Divine
left behind not a single written line

Since then many others have rather
penned in infinite profusion
Much, be it elegant, still blather
compounding human confusion

Swift, countless like birds
in shrieking flock
failing, flailing words
of squawk & schlock

Awkward sentences churning
leave us achingly yearning

 

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Together, let’s take heart!

Our bodies, minds now fraying
of erstwhile bounce bereft
Our wrinkles deepened, graying
hair of what little left

Years bland or full were they deft
countless days in reprise
Dragging us by heft & theft
closer to our demise

Arrived at earthly life’s edge
we must not age apart
allow between us no wedge
Together, let’s take heart!

Our bodies, minds now fraying
of erstwhile bounce bereft
Our wrinkles deepened, graying
hair of what little left

Years bland or full were they deft
countless days in reprise
Dragging us by heft & theft
closer to our demise

Arrived at earthly life’s edge
we must not age apart
allow between us no wedge
Together, let’s take heart!

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Rising, falling

In sleep your chest
exhales, heaving
So calm at rest
full in breathing

Rising, falling
without compel
Captivating
like peaceful swell

Safe at anchor
in rise, in fall
Absent rancor
in port of call

+)
swell = large, calm (non breaking) waves, following a gale or storm

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Persistence in ‘penguinity’

All this dogged insistence
that we’re so deserving
of a prolonged existence
is getting unnerving

In language
so languid
Why languish
so anguished?

Living until fifty
would likely be nifty

While in the seventies
plenty can go wrong
There accrues penalties
for living that long

Even if nursing vain hope
in starry-eyed sanguinity
ain’t the far likelier scope
to end up in ‘penguinity’?

While what time left just rolls on
until earthly life is gone

+)
-‘penguinity’ = (license) the endearing inclination to believe in a swift take-off – even after in perpetuity having frantically been flapping one’s wings and still found oneself stuck on the ground

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Can’t take the heat? Get up & off the side walk grate!

 

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Nice, but ought not our collars still feel a little bit tight?

Show us all we can grab
how to get our way
as we prefer to nab
not give or allay!

Thus abet
rather than care
just forget
what’s like to share

Have now learned to manage
(spurred on by own greed)
taking full advantage
of those in dire need

Indulgent we’re beaming
finest wines we swill
lounged amidst stuff gleaming
huge thick steaks we grill

But aboard in yachting delight
cruising in the starlit night
cradled in self-absorbed birthright
oughtn’t our collars feel bit tight?

+)
-collars feel bit tight = here: feeling a strain of anxiety about whether we’re steering a compassionate course on life’s ocean