Not Poetry. Quatrain Verse in English & Swedish. Dagsverser. On the Mundane & the Arcane.
Why must I be bored daily
told sports metaphors frail
celebrity quotes gaily
and commercial quips pale?
How does the majority
sunk in deep nescience
think they’ve the authority
to demand compliance
with their endless tedious prattle
spouting threadbare cliches & tattle?
Every regret’s ember
glows intractably
dooms us to remember
all implacably
Untamed thoughts glowering
in profanity
fanning wild flames, scouring
our past anomie
Still youth’s memories torrential
of innocent revelry
wondrous blessings existential
replays in warm reverie
Arms faded & scrawny
flabby our middle
Many years since brawny
now mostly twiddle
Life has turned middling riddle
shows on faces craggy
screeches like mistuned fiddle
in melody draggy
On downward trajectory
our course & cause abstruse
Where’s a clear directory
for those of us obtuse?
Why be effete
scurrying eyes down
on tender feet
in self-absorbed frown?
Down blind alleys
in another fray
Same old sallies
just another day
On craven path
indulged, too well fed
still silent wrath
keeps racking my head
Is life really worth living
if of self we’re too forgiving?
Does it succeed the strategy
to seek bliss in ignorance
with heads in clouds of fantasy
dreaming of deliverance?
As we’re mired in mortality
must not our flesh & bone feet
stand firmly in reality
on coarse earthiness concrete?
So when Life glares
endure its stares!
Our minds gone apolitical
bored with analytical
views blindly hypocritical
of restraint inimical
On entertainment insistent
in narcissistic nation
turned Reality resistant
in misguided elation
Are we not head-over-heels
raiding the cash machine
in gilded automobiles
en route to guillotine?
But in these gadget-gathering times heady
we must surely have lost our heads already?
These days it seems too much work and/or there ain’t enough time to untie the laces before removing one’s shoes at night. If so – here’s for those of you who struggle with putting them on the next morning:
Hope eternally springs
for AI laces made right:
Self-loosening shoestrings
opens up shoes with foresight!
But til such time here’s a cue:
Must it cause much outcry
if you don’t remove your shoe
until first you untie?!
Or do sneakers get tight
just resting over night?
The Empire of Denial
continues to beguile
By propaganda’s vial
clicking heals, shouting ‘heil’
U.S. lost in winless warring
yet still keeps persevering
Think by ‘doubling down’ they’re scoring
pretending to hear cheering!
The Elite keeps us Populace stirred
Reality & Fantasy blurred
Walking the bike up hill
did you get too tired?
legs too weak, lacking will?
No, a flat acquired!
Tire went ‘bang!’ at a juncture
deprived of p.s.i.
Instantaneous puncture
spectacularly, why?
When by rusty nail pierced
where ever the hole
airflow won’t be reversed
pointless to cajole
When inner tubes does burst
there is mean wheezing
Air rushes out head first
sound most displeasing
Each molecule on its own
elbowed escapes frantic
All solidarity blown
a deflating antic
Drawn on my years of observation of how my spouse has perfected this artful undertaking, viz.:
“Do not rush me, Time!
I need you to slow down
right now on the dime!
Just pulling on my gown!”
“I need you to wait!”
Her cheeks all flush
“I’m lavishly late
in frantic rush!”
By now Perfected Exit
after starting out slow
builds momentum til hectic
Now that’s a fire works show!
Steadily recurring drama
mere minutes til dressed from pajama
While to others would cause trauma
mere swift smooth routine for Grande Mama!
Plays out like a scorcher
with dashing deporture.
+)
-deporture = deportment: demeanor; conduct
-Time = to others inexorable while to my spouse time ought to instantly expand or contract perfectly synchronized to her shifting needs. Now that can’t be too much to ask for, can it?!