My day's been idling
‘tween grim and gray
since Corona came by
and stole my Sunshine away
like a thief in the light,
sweeping my dreams
into a dungeon of despair.

hope flutters in the wind
on broken wing,
her salvage flight
upstaged by Ebola's evil twin.

what splendid deed
or need of man
have I not met
to earn this noose around my neck?

bare stems,
on trunks of fate
do quiver,
from fear of darkness
or lack of faith?
I cannot tell;
neither served me well
as you dear Sunshine.

soon these lungs two may fail
unable to inhale
or exhale without you.

my days thus spent,
idling from grim to gray,
since Corona came by
and stole my sweet Sunshine away,
shall come to end.

~ P

I’d like to shake your hand.
I’d love to hug you
But those gentle acts of kindness,
Once a natural thing
Are now forbidden sins
With a grim sentence of death.

The roads are empty.
So are the bars;
Scars of social distance
Borne near and far.

Fear and uncertainty
Fills the air.
Cases rise like bushfires in Brisbane
Filling ICU’s, beds and morgues
To overflowing.
.
For whom
Tolls the next bell of infection?
A silent killer roams;
Unseen. Unheard. Unhinged.
A nightmare on every street
Of humanity.

Your race or royal blood
Cannot protect you.
Your wealth and walls of segregation
Are useless as an idiot with a blond toupee.

Your life flashes before you.
What heinous deed have we done
To earn this vicious wrath of Nature?
This mutant of terror.
This sobering reminder
Of our fleeting mortality.
Of the need to curb
Our insatiable greed
And abuse of God’s sacred home and children.

~ P

The sirens are wailing
Again.
Where did the music go?
And the strident shrieks of laughter
From the streets below?

It won’t be long
Before someone you know,
Someone close
Is the subject of attention
From valiant masked men
And women
On the floors of battle
At ground zero.

They’ll throw centuries of medical missiles
At the enemy,
An elusive viral villain
Of ill-repute;
All to no avail.

They’ll plead to the mayor,
To the governor,
To the president,
For more gloves and ventilators,
For every means necessary
To protect and prolong life.

Many will die on the call of duty.

And the sirens will wail again...

Long after
The music stopped.

~ P

finite flourishes with a few clicks
or infinite insight for 9.99;
words drafted hastily
into the information race,
sprinting to expiration
unliked,
barely seen
like hibernating polar bears
nearing extinction;

or pearls carefully crafted
as the moon rages
and dizzy blows
an inspired riff
of sublime similes into your muse.

you should swim someday
in the imaginarium
of quantum leaps
writhing to manic beats of impulsivity.

let the mythic waves
consume you
like runaway lovers
drowning in a sea of lust.

a snapping shrimp will tell you
why the ocean is 9 degrees warmer
this winter
if you listen without the filter of denial;

and give you the insight
to a lyric
that gets you paid.

~ P

to sing the song of life
from hymn to lyte
and every dark verse
buried from sight
in the silence of your fears

to build a bridge
from broke to whole
over those troubled troughs
of doubt and insecurity

to make your choice
and soar

to find your voice
and roar

to be a victim
no more

to be victorious

~ P

I pour bailey’s
in my tea
with a thin slice of lemon;
I stir
with a knife;
the spoons are all *****;
I’m just a boy,
a lazy crazy boy.
I do lazy crazy things
like *** on the toilet seat
and spit in the sink.
I’m all impulse;
I think
not
before I do.

love me as I am
or leave me
be

~ P

you will not say NO to me
said the second of two
baby girls,
now grown in stature
and grit;
brows knit;
eyes bristling with
metoo defiance;

her mother shed
a fountain of tears
she was told,
that fateful day in calcutta;
back in ‘84

she wanted a boy...

~ P