New poem: “Breach”

Just a lil’ poem that sorta popped into into my brain as an idea to fool around with.

Breach
underground, alone, in prison,
coffin heaves, absent prism;
lofty goals, so out of reach,
a life to lead, a need to breach

through the crack, it’s warm, the sun,
with which it must become as one,
it knows only, that it needs
to break the mold, to leave the seed

the ground is waning, weeping, losing
to the gaining, sleeping, fusing;
drowning, drench and soaking flood,
one breath is snatched from cradled mud

breaking free the shell succombs
yielding to which is to come;
a dance with heavens intertwined,
within a canopy of time

onward, upward, breaching sky
by lurching, listing, growing high
as rings that sing of countless age
that tell the tales of wars waged

breathing life back into all
the children shake, break free and fall
bittersweet and through the blue,
it all begins, again, anew

I wonder when

I wonder when
I wonder when the hating will stop
and the divisions dissolve
fragmentation and polarization
are implements used to conquer us all

I wonder when it will matter again
just what it was that official had said
it’s all pre-recorded, pre-planned and now scripted
and because you can read does not mean that you’re gifted

I wonder when it will no longer be rare
to have sense that at one time was common as air
the news just keeps saying I really should care
about what I gather is Snookie’s Derry Air

I wonder when it will finally be time
for money to not be more important than life
this should seem more than simply just being sublime
for it seems now we only can function by crime

I wonder when the whole broken thing changes
that day when we all finally come to our senses
in a briefly and beautiful glimmering instance
when we shake off the lies that so long have enslaved us

I wonder if

The poor little pooh-bears

I’m in a terrible mood. So, here’s a scathing poem I call “The poor little pooh-bears” to match my funk. Enjoy.

*ahem*

The poor little pooh-bears
Because the world has lost its mind
I find myself now passing time
by thinking and stinking up rhyming opinions
to make better sense of some maddening decisions

The world as I see it has largely gone mad
and nary an antidote is to be had
unless you consider the trash they administer
something’s amiss, perhaps even sinister

Our food comes from labs now instead of from farms
but this is ok, let it raise no alarms
profits come first now, of this you must see,
no care must be given to you or to me

we must think of the downtrodden, poor CEOs,
the poor things and their rings and their portfolios
all that lounging and golfing and laying about
we should all come together and help these guys out

I will bow and I’ll grovel and scrape to appease
and plead to eat more of their corporate feces
by golly, gee whiz, why this isn’t so bad
why, I hardly remember why I’d gotten so mad

we should send all our money to them all at once
that way they won’t have to work quite so much
reaching into our pockets pretending they care
come on everybody, we must make this fair!

A particularly ornery poem

After reading about an article about a restaurant that won’t allow unruly children, I came up with a particularly ornery poem about it.

I’m in a lot of pain at the moment, and heavily medicated to boot — so it should come as no surprise that there’s a whole lot of grumpy in this poem. Eh, it’s an outlet right? Anyway, here’s my surly, grumpy opinion wrapped in obnoxious prose. Blame the meds. Or the pain. Or solar flares.

Konker Them Kids
your children are your business
I beg of you dear mom and dad
do what it takes — to enforce this
everyone will be so glad!

no one wants to pick out snot
your kids wipe on our shirts
no one wants to be the lot
to say their shrieking hurts

just because you two had sex,
does not mean you can ignore
the rest of us who break our necks
–stepping over them at stores

…

for the love of god control that creature
‘fore it winds up as a feature
on the news or internet
caught doing stuff you’ll both regret!