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Sep 2016 · 287
Dog Days
Natsel Sep 2016
Dog Days of U.S. Politics


Our dog days of pols and pundits are here
Like pathogens thriving without antidote
Or insects immune to every repellent
They adapt and survive; their goal is your vote.

Twenty-four/seven they're on the attack
Inventing solutions with simple sound bites
Then eager reporters with blow-dried ambition
Primp, and turn fiction to fact overnight.

"Democracy" poisoned by anonymous donors
Congress panders to a privileged few
Their money controls and dictates the fate
Of pols who have pledged to represent you.

The U.S. readily chastises others
Advising and preaching democracy
While our congress is bought and sold on a scale
That is laughable for its hypocrisy.

So political ads infested your home
You call EPA who deal with pollution:
"Please dispose of these, sir, I am sick of the lies."
"An infection of Broadcast Toxins," he sighs,

"For which we have no solution."
Sep 2016 · 179
Untitled
Natsel Sep 2016
Lady Wind Visits

She indulges joy of movement o'er
Fields of rye that sway below her
breast, as billows roll beneath
inhaling summer's heat

At dawn she sweeps a mirrored lake
Whose surface shudders, now awake
No rest--move on--no time for doubt--
Not prone to be discrete

Savannas bow beneath her gaze
A stand of willows in the haze
Proud trees submit, turn inside out
Deprived of all conceit

Dispersing clouds she leaves a pattern
Of curls and swirls and ions scattered
Defiant crow is tossed about
Concedes a rare defeat

A pause in beauty's wingless pace
Her mood and willfulness displaced
Perhaps caprice, or just blown out
Now calm--she'll soon repeat
Sep 2016 · 280
Lady Wind Visits
Natsel Sep 2016
She indulges joy of movement o'er
Fields of rye that sway below her
breast, as billows roll beneath
inhaling summer's heat

At dawn she sweeps a mirrored lake
Whose surface shudders, now awake
No rest--move on--no time for doubt--
Not prone to be discrete

Savannas bow beneath her gaze
A stand of willows in the haze
Proud trees submit, turn inside out
Deprived of all conceit

Dispersing clouds she leaves a pattern
Of curls and swirls and ions scattered
Defiant crow is tossed about
Concedes a rare defeat

A pause in beauty's wingless pace
Her mood and willfulness displaced
Perhaps caprice, or just blown out
Now calm--she'll soon repeat

— The End —