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Savio Fonseca Jun 2020
This Evening I've started,
a bit early and I'm just,
one drink away.
From telling
The ****** Virus,
how bad a SOB it is.
Anais Vionet Jun 2020
I've passed the disenchanted one, in the empty hallway
I've heard the isolated girl, arguing in the mirror
I've seen the angry hermit girl reflected in the toaster
I've noticed the crazy girl, crying in the shower
I've enjoyed the whispers of the poet talking to herself
Her latest performance had the largest audience yet
the flowers were captivated but the cat left unimpressed
a short, corona virus' eternal boredom free verse poem
the virus is showing
its resurgent
capacity
which is why people
must stay well away
from a crowded
locality  

the virus's spread
is akin to a wild
fire
and it burns into a human's body
with a uncontrolled
kind of
desire  

the virus isn't to be
taken
lightly
nor treated as a non
threatening germ's
sprightly  

the virus is still out
there waiting to
attach
itself
onto our healthy
shelf
Be aware at all times that the Coronavirus is still out there...
Anais Vionet Jun 2020
I've passed the disenchanted one, in the empty hallway
I've heard the isolated girl, arguing in the mirror
I've seen the angry hermit girl reflected in the toaster
I've noticed the crazy girl, crying in the shower
I've enjoyed the whispers of the poet talking to herself
Her latest performance had the largest audience yet
the flowers were captivated but the cat left unimpressed
A poem about the corona virus and isolation, boredom, and poetry and a cat
Anais Vionet Jun 2020
my life is full of learning, but I want more than learning.
I want more than silly things, but I want silly things.
I want more than this - viral incompleteness - with its worsening unease.
I want more than forever being enslaved to safe hospitality like astronauts in space.
We control heat with air conditioning - gravity with jets and communicate via satellites.
There’s nothing I can really do but trust in science, and patiently hope.
My wants may shine valuable, like silver, but they are, in reality, worthless tin.
a corona virus isolation poem
Anais Vionet Jun 2020
Trapped like Napoleon on Elba, cursing himself 300 straight nights.
There's no escape from MY desolate coast so I longingly wait nights.
The moon comes and goes on restless, disenchanted, chaste nights.
Will I be an old maid before the next dear and playful date night?
corona virus isolation poem
Anais Vionet Jun 2020
I’m daughtering in place and it’s a full time job.
I'm a posable figurine, like a Barbie for my mom.
She's been shopping in a frenzy, to fill the empty hours.
I think we have an Amazon truck dedicated to our house.
I needed another closet so we took my sister's room
It looks like a Dior outlet-store or maybe King Tut's tomb.
"I think you've gotten carried away," I said to her last night.
Looking at all the loot arranged, she said, "you may be right."
a corona virus isolation poem - with my mom's shopping from boredom
Anais Vionet Jun 2020
American citizens in “bread-lines” to get little boxes of food. How desperate do you have to be to join that line? The sad, generous, little boxes of nutrition. We are all human, we all need our next breath and our children’s next meal. We all need shelter.

It’s a carnival of pleasure to mock human need. Tell me my mistake.

Watch our President’s Daily Briefing. He doesn’t mention bread-lines. He chooses not to. How counterfeit is his competence. No “fire side chat”, no promise of hope. How mean is this fat, grubby, “rich” man who s*s on golden toilet seats and ignores starving Americans’ desperation.

The tyrant’s plea, as the collapse begins, is “I’m not responsible”. Tell me my mistake.

We have lost our immeasurable strength. We are become callous. We are robbed, of our better, more generous selves by narrow focus, by zero sum greed. Our collapse will be just, like verse set down in primitive times when the margin of error was clear and understood.

It’s a calm discrimination to choose carelessness. Tell me my mistake.

This unfolding viral nightmare is but one of the fires along the tree line. The encroaching environmental disaster, the loss of our political system’s integrity, the militarization of police racism.

Maybe China will do better - if I’m reading my score card correctly, it looks like they’re up next as the world’s great superpower.
about the corona virus response - and other things - like Trump
Anais Vionet Jun 2020
Death's at our door, it's right there on our Ring.
I told it we're busy but it's patient - I think.
Death's at our door and - yep - it looks - viral.
But if you listen closely it's singing a carol.
"come out and play - it's a beautiful day"
"you can hide from the virus like a rat in a cave"
"but you'll just end up dying - some OTHER way."
The tune has such rhythm, the voice has such charm.
The pull is profound, my fears are transformed.
Death offers a beginning, not just an end.
and the offer's delivered with a wink and a grin.
Death looks like cross between an angel and a prince.
Death seems kind of funny. Mom! Should I let it in‽
A corona virus anxiety poem
Anais Vionet Jun 2020
I am
fermenting in tedium
emotionally over-reactive
frequently inappropriate
irresponsible but trustworthy
discontentedly powerless
and frequently overwhelmed.
a corona virus shelter-in-place angst poem
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