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Ron Conway Jan 9
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
Ron Conway Jan 9
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
Ron Conway Jan 9
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
Ron Conway Mar 2020
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
California Rain
Ron Conway Mar 2020
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
Bop Poem
Ron Conway Feb 2020
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
She Sings
Ron Conway Feb 2020
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
Darkness
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