How moribund that lore of life
That counterfeits the play of death
When insurrection leads the way
To stimulate, perchance, bad breath.

For we fell foul of reasons' ploy
When, sad, we laid this mantle, proud
Upon his  Presidential brow,
Yes, he who brayed intention, loud.

Thrice we faltered in our task
Of lifting high this nations' flag
To resurrect a Judas King
To watch him bray, to hear him brag.

Swagger forth, in arrogance,
Play what ever game he please....
Despite Constitutions' law,
DEMANDS NOW,
The Emperor-ship for life....with ease!

Blonde Judas, in the Emperors' cape
Barging, as a hurt God cries....
Like cattle, we, to slaughter run,

REDACT...for this way, madness lies!

M.
13 February 2020

Schrodinger's Haiku
Everything exists at once
While our eyes are closed.

The sign said "Danger".
I only saw the river.
I would gladly drown.

I have these old grey mitts.
I want to use them to hold your heart.
The are worn and scratchy. But they are warm.
I can’t promise that my care of it won’t leave marks. But they will all be made from a loving touch.
My hands have callouses that run deep. They are cracked like stone.
Your heart deserves a softer touch.
But I only have these old grey mitts.
You heart deserves a birds nest. A place to wait and dream of flying.
Your heart deserves a silk cocoon to rest in until it is fully transformed.
Your heart deserves a heart to sleep in. A beat to match in time.
But I only have these old grey mitts.
I’d like to hold your heart. And if you’d let me, I’d protect it like my own.
For when I saw your heart, I spun my own into yarn of blood and bone and wove it into something soft.
I’d like to hold your heart.
But I have no heart.
I only have these old grey mitts.

Want this
and
fidgiting

Phantom
skin
and delight

Clear wins
of
distraction

I have
a
list of things

undone
by

She is mathematics,
bare necessity in numbers

Curvature and roundness,
symmetrical circumference
lies in the rise of her hips

A tanned half moon,
a breast

A pose

The fall equinox begins
in the shadow
of the small of her back

Night looms beyond, below
connecting beauty's dots

Her body reclines,
hand resting between waist
and hip, an impasse

Head at rest
held by soft hand.

You can’t compare yourself
With the unbroken girls
Surrounding you
You already shattered
Creating
A new form
Of beautiful

-jt