A large and ponderous, flightless bird
Was what I pictured of ‘ennui’
When first I read that warning word

In retrospect it’s less absurd
That self - created lethargy
Is like a ponderous, flightless bird

Boredom’s not a dream deferred                                
It is a state that you must flee
Be thankful for that warning word

One mustn’t let repose begird
Your ***** life, or else you’ll be
Much like a  ponderous, flightless bird

Get out, and farther, from the herd
And risk the dangers to be free
Go boldly and defy that word    

The choice is yours, you’ve no doubt heard
Part warning, yet therein a plea
To banish ponderous, flightless birds
Let action be  your favorite word

Times past, our driving word was ‘could’
As in we could do this or that
To help the world, to do some good

Then, strong ideas asked if we would
Let them then, step up to bat                  
Respect was asked, when we used ‘could’

That this meant work, we understood
And some attempts fell fairly flat
Yet help we did, and did some good

That fashion’s out, replaced by ‘should’
Imperative, we’re spoken ‘at’
Time’s passed when arguments have ‘could’

One must comply, it’s understood
By those who dictate online chat
Now ‘only we’, can do some good

And half the people see falsehood
When wrapped in hate, ideas are spat
It’s hard to see this do much good
Perhaps we should re-visit ‘could’


Cliff Green 2017

In the oppressive Shanghai hospital heat
My eighty year 'young' mother
Looks without speculation,
From her one good eye

The strokes have left their mark
What is the character for senility?
"I have to go now Ma; home to Mei Guo"
"Yes; hurry, or the Japanese will arrest you"

Posting once meant sending a letter
Written in cursive, observing good form;
Decency good - politeness much better
Both mindful and kind, was most people’s norm

The internet came with lightning bolt speed
And missives, then dismissives sped about
The craft of writing, soon began to bleed  
And Johnson’s words* became a lost redoubt

Soon all could chat alone, with ‘friends’ worldwide
A foamy blather, that soon turned cruel                        
As politics dilated our divide  
And set us, verbal swords in hand, to duel

We fight and hate for ‘likes’ - and our pretenses
We **** our souls with “panem et circenses”**  

©2018 C. Green

"That'll never happen to me" we mused
Casually and rarely in youth; super,  impervious
To fate and random chance
To the ravages of time and other clichés

The cautionary lives and deaths,
The sad and arcane litany
Of misadventure
And made for TV movie diseases,
Like fables from some outer darkness

Decades pass and the news is nearer and nearer
Dearer and dearer
The surprise of learning about so many friends'
Mortality.

The odds have an ugly way of catching up
And staring you down in the mirror
"I hope that'll never happen to me" we pray
Earnestly and often as we age.

Were science to again visit
The topic of race in humans
Like mice, like bugs, like snakes
Findings would first be specious
Then suspicious, then delicious
Finally mundane

Were race to ever visit
Science and its arched eyebrow,
Flasks would boil indignantly
Mixers would cloud the water
Paradigms would wriggle
Then die

The close trimmed whiskers on these faces in the crowd;
ivy on Jay Gatsby's wall.