if Jūrmala
by Riga
she fettered
goat head
aim for
orient in
sea yesterday
she stank
like the
submarine there
with Latvia
as Über
recoiled their
way to
Dow Nation
with centipede
in lore

a union is granted a pie
and cleanse their rye
when a tunic can sequester mobs
only cries in these houses pale crumbs
as they succumb to climes in poles
that keep their fry hush in throes
and below the ground frowns peal the town
as ice is temperately bound
whether ponds here roast white supremacy
as rhetoric was xenophobia
and rose from their chaos
now the national street
that sought their limb
and the financier in London

a pillage
and loot
this Saturday
night was
very cute
as me
foreboding but
outside the
coffeeshop with
a map
that haunt
madam dacha
with pouch
in debt
this resolute
capture was
Russian probe

Some decades back, in actual fact,
Being heard was feared.
Corded phones and dial tones
Were oft routinely cleared;

The worry was a 'wire-tap',
Domestic speech taboo.
The rumor was, in essence, that
If said, the White House knew.

Nowadays, this fear we lack,
And cheerfully obey.
Now we ask, "Hey, wire-tap,
What's the weather like today?"

I guess my heart spying
My eyes ask
He does not answer
The answer was found
By your heart

Righteous men cannot rest
Cannot laugh in light no more
Burdened by that shameful crest
Who yielded from the corps

The spy for two sides
With two separate cause
And even now he is uncertain
Who’s spy he really was

He wished they’d heed
To what he feared
But none so deaf
As men who won’t hear

Shut upon himself
Sowing not upon harm
Though for simple whiles
For lost kisses and smiles
He layed his weapon to arms

Though never to learn
Their power burned
Forgetting the peace he brung
Be thy sleep
Calm and deep
Such weight on a mind so young

Innocent hands
Spread like disease
Though the resting land
Was put at ease

Tragedy not heard
With each bellow and wail
Though through this sight
Peace did prevail

And with this night
His strife began
No longer a child
Though no longer a man