I slept too long
do not know why
had my coffee at 9am
doomscrolling the news
on assorted media
(inter)national
        same difference

did not brighten my mood

the same idiots
spew the same phrases
they voiced one month ago
nothing has changed

and they call it progress

fire magic

that lovely night
     when suddenly
you put your hand upon my knee
and later snuggled up under
my paw around your shoulder
a gentle flame sprang into life
from dormant embers

when afterward the two of us
were rocking to a softer tune
than music would us have
     (we never made it
      to the dancing floor)
the brilliance of your eyes
shone through your flying hair
     the flame leaped high
      and built a wall
      hard but transparent

completeness was
          within

dry as a beggar's over-parched throat
as an over-burnt piece of blackened rye-toast
as the golden sand in Sahara roast
was the air o' the day of the black death-note

as the air crackled with the laughter of death
and claimed the millions as it left bereft
daughters of the earth their heart a-cleft
from the breath of the devil with the head of Macbeth

Houses, untenable, ditched searing memories,
Turned sarcophagi from life and its treasuries
Scorched skeletons of sagas and histories,
Of family feuds, celebrations and victories,
Of open secrets and whispered mysteries,

Years of toil blest by sunbeams,
The laughter of babes and the giggle of teens,
Now fractured windows and ash blackened beams,
Skeletal remains of life and its dreams.

Like a sweet hymn of orchestra
The wind blew and the night was soft
Pearly snowflakes falling gently
into a winter land

She walks out of the house
with her gleaming eyes
Her blonde hair drifting in the wind
while the white dress clings to her
like an artic flag,
basking in the fine hour

She looks up and sees the snow falling
down her face and hands
And she searches for warmth, her arms stretched
toward the frost-bitten sky

Slowly dancing and spinning
Following her own rhythm
A silent poinsettia garden, blooming
Tracing the shape of her tender smile
That was warm in the midst of winter

fire
with no deterrent
makes it's way through the valleys
over the hills
and through the silent towns
engulfing the barely alive
and the already dead
there are no alarms
no screams
no running
just the sound of crackling fire
peaceful really

Mother inhales
looks out upon the flames
it is time to begin again
after I rest

we got drones in Jersey
drones in LA
are they from the future
are they here to stay

are they comin' from the sea
or comin' from the sky
were they made in deep space
or is it just a lie

re-engineering
that is all the rage
shake us up
shake us down
keep us in a cage

they're playin' us like fiddles
where can truth be found?
multi-million dollar jets
but they can't shoot one down!

what a huge calamity
what a sorry joke
this mega scam will soon unfold
like pepsi vs coke

don't buy it!

go home to your big house
sleep in your big bed
next to your big wife
and wait for the big sun to rise.

then get in your big pickup truck
and use your big bumper to
plow through big traffic jams;

sittin’ up tall, lookin’ intimidating,
feelin’ indestructible and wavin’
your big American flag proudly.

then park just outside the big yellow lines
taking up two parking spaces and return
to your big job
at your big desk
with your big title
making your big executive decisions
as those petty words come frothing
from your big mouth.

then sit at your big table,
up in your big high chair
with your big fork and big knife
and feast upon your big dinner
of other people’s shortcomings,

afterwards, place your big belly
upon your wife’s big ***
and put your big boy member
into her big gaping hole
towards the heavens
stroking your big ego
up and down
back and forth
in and out

feeling bigger than the sky
looking bigger than the ocean
sounding bigger than the sirens of hell

broadening that big imagination
inside your big deluded brain;

you’ve defeated the champions of perfection
you’ve dethroned the delusional king
you’ve won against no competition

the greeting cards,
the love letters,
the blessings,
the yes sir’s,
the no sir’s,
the thank you sir’s
were all said to warm your tiny heart
but said
without meaning
from the big heart of another.

A black heart full of pain,
cold as white stone
in winter,
like a swan’s sorrowful song
at life’s end,
turns to ashes within its shell,
and perhaps, gripped by similar sorrow,
this part of the body forever seeks
another like itself.