Another day has come; and gone...
Come the night we’re on our own.
Lay us down and tuck us in,
And let our sleep come when.

Suddenly we have no say:
Unbidden dreams take us far away.
Our minds will rapidly unfurl:
We belong now to another world.

Finally! morning lights our eyes awake.
Dreams’ murky memories we try to take.
“Hush now; say your goodbyes.
The sun arises in his skies.”



For Rickets.



Copyright © 2010, 2013 by John Russell; all rights reserved.  No reproduction allowed in any manner whatsoever without permission.

In my childhood
I played with fire!
Now I play
with matches:

Sticks without embers
that burn with hot remembers
inflaming logic without reasons
for the
Treason; treason,
falling by the seasons
like a burning white hot snow.

and realizing:

That the more
That I discover
The less there is
To know.



Copyright © 2013 by John Russell; all rights reserved.  No reproduction allowed in any manner whatsoever without permission.

No lightly cawing jest now
but bird wheezle
from the filthy flying rags
of malcontent
of discontent
darkened further by the lies

Spreading their fetid steaming rage
Across the hills
Across the dales

and down in the valley,
valley so low –
where the mocows cringe,
“Bright shining as the sun.”

“When we push this button we could blow up the world,”
one said.

But they pushed anyway
And pushed and pushed again
And they found Nature
to be longsuffering
but ignored her cries to “Stop!”

and Ignorant in their glee
they did not perceive their ends...
No Taps:  only wind; then, silence.



Copyright © 2013 by John Russell; all rights reserved.  No reproduction allowed in any manner whatsoever without permission.