It started with Covid-19
The likes of which we'd never seen.
We thought we'd be good
but we should have touched wood
as it's turned into something obscene.
So then ****** Hornets arrived
(we thought it was something contrived,
excuse me for thinking)
They told us unblinking
From a horror flick this was derived
He was hoping to win the election
and he just couldn't stand the rejection.
His effort to thwart
was to ***** us in court
but he couldn't maintain an ********
rc
Jan 8, 2021
Jan 8, 2021 at 10:37 PM UTC
When brothers and sisters display their ambition,
Disquiet begins with an overlapped mission.
Not likely are they to conceive coalition,
As free competition's the price of admission.
With hindsight perspective, the point of ignition,
Was broken commitment and lies of omission;
That turbulent fireball, conscious volition,
Set flame to the nexus of love and tradition.
The holidays come with attached contradiction,
And multitudes gather like rats in a kitchen.
Their greetings exchanged in colloquial diction;
The better to manage their vasoconstriction.
Relations, though sweetened, still lack in nutrition,
Society weakened, you'll rise through attrition.
rc
Jan 8, 2021
Jan 8, 2021 at 10:22 PM UTC
In every population there are fools,
and those who can't accept a fair defeat.
The weaker minded souls become the mules,
incited by repeated lies and tweets.
Psychology en mass is quite the art;
you influence the least incisive first.
(Would anyone call Chicken Little smart?)
Exhorting to the base invokes the worst.
We shouldn't be surprised, yet here we are.
In shock we watched democracy catch fire.
A wound this deep will surely leave a scar,
all caused by one capricious despot's ire.
Can those who would all verity efface,
return from so profound a loss of grace?
rc
Jan 8, 2021
Jan 8, 2021 at 10:18 PM UTC
Northern California, early morning rain
Nestled in the grand sequoia,
Supine and bed-bound calm
Idyllic solitude for an
Avowed pluviophile
The petrichor caress the sense,
Creates a kind euphoria
To banish clinomania.
Arise, await the night and clear
Eyes star-cast, aurora dreaming
Serendipity is life
rc
Mar 8, 2020
Mar 8, 2020 at 4:46 PM UTC
Where creeps the backdoor maestro,
in your selectively disinterested brain,
lessons issued freely leave more questions,
made grander by solicitude and grace.
What of existence and eternal presence?
Posed like mannequins, your questions are
intoned in tones of childhood melodies.
Designs on your attention,
all claim the moral higher ground.
It seems that the naive attempts
to disambiguate the ancient texts,
serve only to cement a modern bias,
parting not the reeds of lemongrass's fakery,
parsing not the deeds of the felonious among us,
no quiet comprehension in the noise and messy chaos;
intoned in tones of childhood melodies.
Suppose a gift of kindness to yourself.
Embrace the finitude delusion.
Pretend that one day this will terminate;
in absence and in darkness will be peace.
Surrender to your ardent vernal mantra,
to gently row and row and row your boat,
intoned in tones of childhood melodies.
rc
Mar 3, 2020
Mar 3, 2020 at 5:08 PM UTC
She sings,
and with her tone
she knocks you down
and binds you with her vocal cords
and blinds your outward looking eyes.
She sings,
and from her throat
her own harmonic;
a euphony
of hitherto forgotten shades,
that bids you sleep,
...but sleep is doom.
She sings,
and in her song
a tender scream;
a plaintive wail
that bids you reach
and hold...
...there now
...there now
rc
Feb 19, 2020
Feb 19, 2020 at 3:31 PM UTC
When darkness speaks,
It says, the night is ever long;
But comes the dawn.
When speak the seas,
They say the storm is evermore;
But comes the calm.
rc
Feb 15, 2020
Feb 15, 2020 at 10:54 PM UTC
A country, in turmoil, a long time ago
Sent all of its tyrants away.
The citizens suddenly freed from their woe
Were left in a state of dismay.
“Freedom”, the concept, was new to these folk
After all the abuse they'd been through
Oh yes, they were glad to be free of the yoke
But they didn't know quite what to do.
Then somebody said, “We need someone in charge
To make sure the trash is collected.
He needn't be more than a p'liceman at large;
Someone we all feel is respected.”
“But how do we choose” was replied in return
“In a way that is fair to us all?”
If only there could be a way to discern -
The answer was somewhat banal.
“We could all cast a vote for the one we like best -
But just how do we narrow the field?”
“We'll pick one from the east and pick one from the west”
Their destiny there-on was sealed.
Both of the candidates chosen were men
(This was long before folks were enlightened)
And both of the fellows knew how to pretend
And thereby the contest was tightened.
One of the guys felt that he should appeal
For a kinder and gentler state.
So he helped the downtrodden, and greased the loud wheel
In the hope that the folk take the bait.
The other guy saw that the hillbilly caucus
Outnumbered the saint wanna-be's.
His cunning campaign became vastly more raucous
As he worked on their fears and unease.
Now, it's not up to me to reveal who succeeded
As that would be cocky and rash.
Suffice it to say that they got what they needed -
But nobody picked up the trash.
rc
Feb 5, 2020
Feb 5, 2020 at 5:52 PM UTC
As all of human living
Is the brilliant, blinding flash
Of welder's arc,
One meagre life a single spark
In arching grace
Precise in structure
Art in form
And yet we are compelled to parse
And parse
And parse the parsing
To hours, days and years
To successes and to failure
So.
Much.
Failure.
Most will fall
To concrete floor
To glow and fade and die
And some by chance to quenching pail
To sound a raucous last goodbye
But one may find a life anew
Vicarious in having found
The recklessly discarded
Oily rag
rc
Feb 4, 2020
Feb 4, 2020 at 10:13 PM UTC
Transcendental meditation
Redefines imagination
Scarcely an attentive slumber
From the world you disencumber
Portentous is the cold daydream
Constraining not the mindful stream
It just accentuates the strife
This paradox of conscious life
rc
Feb 4, 2020
Feb 4, 2020 at 9:27 PM UTC