Oh ****** detested fly,
I do hate you so,
From the gossamer that is your wings,
To your greenish, blue-black glow.
With your thousand-eyed empty stare
Inflaming my disgust.
Oh ****** detested fly
Die you must!
To say its nothing personal
Would be an outright lie.
I hate you with a hate so pure
As you light upon my pie!
The vermin oozing from your feet,
Contaminate the lovely crust!
Oh ****** detested fly
Die you must!
Perhaps a mighty truncheon
I'll swing with my righteous hand.
Perhaps I'll blast you off the wall
With a well aimed rubber band.
However I dispatch you hence,
On this you may place your trust...
Oh ****** detested fly,
Die you must!
How fine when your mangled torso
Is delivered to the trash,
And serenity descends once more
Upon my corned beef hash,
And all within my kitchen,
Is safe from your probing lust.
This is why, detested fly,
Die you must!
Jul 30, 2022
Jul 30, 2022 at 3:56 PM UTC
My funeral will be held in the backyard.
My urn will rest on a small table,
Covered with some odd colored cloth.
(Their choice, I'll have no preference.)
Some of my friends will come.
Nervous laughter will be heard.
Stories will be told.
Later, everyone will go home.
Jul 30, 2022
Jul 30, 2022 at 3:37 PM UTC
Death dances round me,
A specter, a shadow,
Always just past the corner of my eye.
She weaves a tapestry thread through my life,
Taunting me meanly,
As all I know and love dies.
She arrives unexpected.
She arrives unannounced,
But sometimes her calling card comes in advance.
Surprise or no,
She still sparks a shock,
Whenever she enters the room.
Death dances round me and round me...
And round me still again,
Til the band strikes up my song,
And curtseying politely,
She insists I join her in a waltz.
Jul 30, 2022
Jul 30, 2022 at 3:31 PM UTC
We have been here since the last black star exploded.
Here, in this expanding expanse, we ever shall remain,
Until the final neutron decomposes,
And there is no more love,
And no more pain.
Hush!
All is dark!
Mother has put out the light.
Jul 30, 2022
Jul 30, 2022 at 3:13 PM UTC
Wheeling through the dark blue arc
Of a wide cloud spattered sky,
A solitary vulture sails in circles
With sharply discerning eyes,
Come to clean the carnage below
Left from the struggle for who lives and who dies.
No harbinger of Death's cold finger, she.
Humble, faithful servant
Turning old back into the new.
When the vulture comes, Death does not linger;
Death's odor departs
And Death's cold finger
Is made warm as fresh earth,
Where flowers bloom better than last year
Because the faithful vulture has kept faith with her thankless work.
Jul 30, 2022
Jul 30, 2022 at 3:08 PM UTC
Hydrogen and Helium,
Bound in Gravity's ambitious grasp,
Go from absolute cold to incredibly hot,
In a blinding fusion flash.
Billions and trillions of twos become ones
Joined together in fiery suns.
Oxygen, neon, aluminum and sand,
All forged together in the maker's burning hand.
Carbon, copper, yttrium and gold
All made to order in creation's white hot mold
And when the iron frying pan invades the maker's heart,
It only takes a moment and the maker comes apart.
Iridium, platinum, thallium and lead,
Go rushing through the cosmos,
To announce the maker's dead.
Gone but not forgotten,
The Maker's flesh and bones,
Billow through the Milky Way,
In search of other homes,
And come to rest in a spinning cloud,
Of gas, debris and stones.
Within the swirling chaos,
New centers begin to form,
Another million years or so,
Another maker born.
This maker warms a rocky earth,
And brings forth lakes and trees,
Birds and cats and Summer nights,
And eventually you and me.
Little bits of makers past,
Make all the things we are.
Two souls become one in a fusion flash,
Love...born in the heart of a star.
Aug 12, 2019
Aug 12, 2019 at 4:33 PM UTC
I wish I'd been an astronomer,
Gazing through my telescope's tunnel,
Into the distant, unimaginable past;
Through dark matter veils,
And swirling, turbulent gas.
Inside hyper-hot primordial clouds,
Hydrogen atoms danced two by two,
To make the things that made me and you.
Through my telescope tube,
I would see glimpses of our future selves,
Wrapped in elemental shrouds of expelled outer layers,
Drifting mid radiating clouds,
Of star babies struggling to be born.
Apr 10, 2019
Apr 10, 2019 at 11:22 AM UTC
Cut from the same cloth by scissors of hardened steel.
Boiled in the cauldron of bubbling blood.
Borne forth upon the highway of broken bleaching bones.
The conquerors come.
Different name,
Always the same.
Glory, justice, honor and god,
Truth, freedom, liberating tide.
Country, family, home and hearth,
These are the tales the historians lied.
Straight faced...
...without so much as a snicker.
What glory in old men's broken hands?
What justice in stolen wasted lands?
What honor in puddles of baby's blood?
What truth in an indifferent god?
Mar 7, 2017
Mar 7, 2017 at 2:53 PM UTC
One tiny water droplet dances,
On a river of rushing air.
She races 'oer cumulus cliffs.
She tumbles down the nimbus stair,
And as she whirls mid the frozen flow,
Her body begins to turn to snow.
Relinquishing her liquid status,
Spreading forth her crystaline lattice,
She leaps from the cloud tops of her birth,
Forsakes the sky and drifts to earth.
Now me...
...I come...
Grumping down the stony street,
Back turned to the sky, eyes glued to my feet,
And lurking in my furrowed head,
Myriad troubles, worry and dread.
No time to look round, no time to see,
No time for laughter, no time to be.
Suddenly, a glint, flashing, captivates my eye,
Causing me to look upon a small speck drifting by.
One perfect snowflake, like a musical note,
Piroettes, hovers and lands upon my coat.
At once, the black veil distorting my sight,
Dissolves to reveal the truth and the light.
I look up, breathless, for now I can see,
The whole world is dancing and smiling at me,
And my cares, so tremendous a moment before,
Now seem quite tiny and sort of a bore.
I must thank this lovely creature who has perched upon my sleeve,
But all I found was a water droplet, slipped down into the weave.
And on that winter afternoon as I stood beneath a tree,
A small voice whispered on the wind and sighed...
..."Remember me."
Later on, the moment past, now back my daily trials,
And I, caught up in deadlines met, far from thoughts of smiles,
Reached for a pen to make a list of certain things to get,
Looked down my arm at the sleeve of my coat,
...and saw it was still wet.
(For Casey)
Jun 10, 2015
Jun 10, 2015 at 10:12 AM UTC
I was an old warrior without love,
When Freyja took pity on my soul,
And though the time was late, my friend,
Twas no less sweet the goal.
Her eyes brought me close the first moment.
Her presence my privilege to possess.
I'll see her that way forever.
I'll shiver when 'ere we caress.
When its late and the day has been painful,
And its trials still sting and still bite,
We'll bar the door on our nation of two.
It'll be just you and me through the night.
I was an old warrior without love,
When Freyja took pity on my soul,
And though the time was late, my friend,
Twas no less sweet the goal.
4/13
Jun 8, 2015
Jun 8, 2015 at 9:32 AM UTC