Not Poetry. Quatrain Verse in English & Swedish. Dagsverser. On the Mundane & the Arcane.
With scant knowledge of history
some of us lack perspective
allows the Elite’s sophistry
to provide slant deflective
Media gives space generous
for each crisis made to seem
unforeseen, sui generis
as per Power Elite’s scheme
covering up by spin in profusion
failing that with a ‘pretend solution’
True facts can’t grow or contract
Facts shall remain facts regardless
of wished-for outcome or tact
They are neither kind or heartless
Opinions are but opinions
oft self-serving, subjective
nothing but a claque of minions
milling around affective
Ain’t it these days to facts we take offense
while opinions we airily dispense?
At first they were both derided
for appearing quite misguided
Off to such weak start
both Trump & Bush
mere blips on the charts
Then without blush …
… they chose (absent all qualms)
path precedential
which: Drop missiles & bombs
get ‘Presidential’!
Patriots are now deferential
of their new leaders quintessential!
Thinning hair ruffled
Slow feet stumbled
Noise shrill while muffled
Same days jumbled
Yarns spun garrulous
Headlights gone dimmed
on roads perilous
Life’s sweet cream skimmed
Been carrying on too long
Ready for the last round: Gong!
Yet another rant
of Trumpler cant
with profligate slant
Admirers chant!
While many a sycophant
(be they scammed, ignorant)
growing ever truculent
Of hope indifferent …
… as the Trampling Orange Elephant
a mere Dabbling, Deranged Dilettante!
His looks sallow carotene
that shamelessly lying brawler
a sick psyche philistine
in pursuit of that next dollar
Utterly Orwellian
but that’s not by far all
a shameless chameleon
with heart and hands too small
Still those who got him elected
feel elated not dejected
Such light & lovely wheat
not like grumpy rye
While she’s so gushy, sweet
he’s reticent, wry
Shall we know their true faces
within their home’s four walls?
Hurling invectives, vases
then making up in schmaltz?
Us humans but fleetingly decorous
while we’re rarely-failing obstreperous
when spared caprice?
Blessed why
in perfect peace?
What wondrous bestowment
awake in the moment!
Found restful affinity
in a routine austere
with restrained sanguinity
across every frontier
Am at peace in episodes
when in context coheres
I mitigate overloads
by pulling in low gears
While not lounging in The Holy Trinity
perhaps loitering in its vicinity?
När tankar virrar fram-tillbaka
ens sinne inte kännes här
när både röst å händer skaka
då blev man säkert pensionär
Försent nu att sätta pli
så, så fick de bara bli!