Politeness, Manners, Civility
Empathy, Decency, Dignity
have all given way
to oinks, squeals and brays
Vulgarity carries the day
The TV brays
as the fall sunset catches
the dust and catches
in your eyes as it sneaks in our window.
And there you are.
You sing your song
and the words,
the deeper ones
the ones underneath,
flash in my vision.
Handwritten little subtitles.
You're happy.
And in this moment,
nothing could ever matter more.
Updated for a more
Maddening day-and night!
Of an ear's fright
Pleasant route's harness bells.
Now and piercing, roadways'
Alarming brays.
Sometimes it shrieks, hoots or creaks,
whistles, cries, trills or squeaks,
rattles, russles gurgles or moans,
babbles, crackles, grunts or groans.
Sometimes it chatters, chirps or howls,
baas, ribbits, hisses, roars or growls,
cackles, coos, squawks or crows,
chitters, bleats, clucks or bellows.
Sometimes it, barks, buzzes or caws,
clicks, gobbles, gurbles or heehaws,
moos, humms, oinks, meows or neighs,
peeps, purrs, quacks, snuffles or brays
the silence of nature is a never-ending song,
forget your troubles and come sings along.
5
N’essayez pas de faire courir
L’âne gris ou le puissant zébu,
La girafe folle ou le poète,
Vous perdriez votre temps,
N’essayez pas de faire courir,
Chacun doit respecter l’autre,
Le cheval court, l’âne brait,
Comment cueillerons nous ces cerises ?
N’essayez pas de faire courir
La girafe folle ou le poète,
La lenteur les inspire plus,
De tout ils gardent raison,
N’essayez pas de faire courir.
Don’t try to make them run
The gray donkey or the powerful zebu,
The crazy giraffe or the poet,
You would waste your time,
Do not try to make them run,
Each one must respect the other,
The horse runs, the donkey brays,
How will we pick these cherries?
Don’t try to make them run
The crazy giraffe or the poet,
The slowness inspires them more,
Of all that keep reason,
Do not try to make them run.
The donkey brays;
the elephant trumpets,
and the herds remain unprotected
from the wolves and the jackals.
What game shall we play;
pin the tail on the Donkey
or Elephants can't remember?
It's a barrel of monkeys
playing let's sink the battleships
while wearing blindfolds all around.
Do these glasses make us look fat?
Who looks worse, me or Matt?
I looked up to do a quadruple take.
A mistake I did not care to make.
Why are zebras so hard to raise?
They gave me a nod, Ted gave some brays.
We look silly in these glasses, right?
I did not want tears, pouting, or a fight.
You all look great, I fibbed through my teeth.
Dick scratched his tummy with his hoof showing us beneath.
We don’t believe you, we think we look chubby!
This was stated by their insecure leader, Tubby.
You look marvelous, terrific, I lied.
I wanted to get away, run back inside.
What do you think? She always says that
I gave them a wave, thinking they did look fat.
But a brush and a touch, one parting more.
Delilah, Moon-girl, you stole my strong light.
I, your Sun-boy, am shorn having blackout,
but remember my close shaves, the honey
and dead days, my foes jaw-struck,
as the long-winded she-ass brays in my ear.
With influence silverish, drowning golden locks,
the egg-eating fish-god wins for a period
till dawn's yellow meets me at the next round.
I shake gold pillars in Dagon's stone temple
where uncut spectators are dying to taunt me
but what do I care for I know you await me,
At noon I burn for you,
at nightfall I sigh for you, O Delilah.
The Donkey of Destiny
The party was set, the guests were invited,
The adults were happy, the kids all excited.
All going to plan; the hosts were delighted,
Then the Donkey of Destiny brayed – he-haw!
The Donkey of Destiny brayed.
The Board of Directors set forth their campaign,
To conquer their industry, supremely reign,
To guarantee ultimate financial gain,
Til the Donkey of Destiny brayed – he-haw!
The Donkey of Destiny brayed.
Military leaders made their decision,
Troops were deployed with painstaking precision.
Soon they would realise their tactical vision,
Then the Donkey of Destiny brayed – he-haw!
The Donkey of Destiny brayed.
To amuse the young children, a day out was planned,
Buckets and spades and sunshine and sand.
Ice-cream and fish-and-chips; seaside brass band,
But the Donkey of Destiny brayed – he-haw!
The Donkey of Destiny brayed.
There’s nothing as fickle as Destiny’s Donkey,
Capricious as weather, and sly as a monkey,
Be certain that everyone’s hopes will turn funky,
When the Donkey of Destiny brays – he-haw!
When the Donkey of Destiny brays.
Down in the meadow, bees are buzzing away
cows laze about, after feeding all day
Wildflowers attract butterflies, in pastel arrays
lapping up nectar, in the warm sunny rays
Down in the meadow, lambs frolic and play
ladybirds climb grass tufts, that gently sway
A farmer wipes his brow, whilst loading hay
midges swirl about, as young horses neigh
Down in the meadow, goldfinches come to lay
gobbling down thistle seeds, without delay
Baby spiders spin webs, in more than one way
none of them mind each other, so all’s ok
Down in the meadow, an old donkey brays
don’t think he’s cross, just dislikes his dray
The residents don’t care, what this ass says
all have things to do, and ignore me anyway
the theory says: “beware, for thoughts are things”
and voice the means by which it brays or sings
for were we held to pay for what we think
we’d skate forever ‘round an oval rink
whereas the learned might decry our pain
they must admit that they do just the same
confined behind a title on a door
denied the thoughts they used to think before
the winds of time and fate abandoned them
they sank, somehow forgetting they could swim
for thoughts, those things that haunt them evermore
somehow become cold stones on distant shore
so close your eyes, deny the muffled screams
of distant thoughts now lost within your dreams
John G. Lawless
©3/25/2022
Drawdy Pointe
Flyaway frond hairs wear the breeze
where the green palm nods her head,
and the pelican post's lone occupant
is surveying the fisherman’s empty line.
Across the water in the yellow yard,
a gypsy on loan from Key West,
the alpaca grows wool, the donkey brays,
and the happy chickens nest.
Quiet and peaceful, grasses silently slip,
adrift on canals from the sea;
the star fruit falling across the fence
is golden and perfectly sweet.
I have heard said that island time
never checks the hands of a clock,
just simply wafts by from daylight to dark
as we sit in our chairs on the dock.
Copyright, January 22, 2022
the air in the skull is stale
not ready yet to be noticed on sight
or seen
as anything but a question mark
submerging in a fish bowl
of watching
reconnoitering
feeling around the margins
where the walls
are as porous as tissue paper
lids crank open
let it come
let it go
it being an ocean
on this small planet
one has to save as much space as possible
40 acres is hard won
easily lost
where did the warm dark oblivion go
said the question mark
the sky in the leaden head is clearing
all but the thinking is shrinking
down
to a spot,
a dabble of words in a pond
a mule brays in ohio
In the Confines of a Dream
By Sy Roth
Their skin touches mine
Hair on end in the cold, tickling,
Vibrating with amoebic fear on an endless loop.
I could not look.
They braved separation from each other,
Buttock to buttock, fearful of the trap
Where shame brays an insulting reality
Nascent scents buried in their catacomb.
Then a quiet and God’s name echoes in their canyon
Hear me. Hear me!
And the eye above peers, a blue orb.
If it could smile, it did.
The dream is long, an arduous journey,
Skins now cling to other skins
And long grooves are etched in it
Hieroglyphs of people predisposed to perish.
In the darkness, they find Jacob’s ladder
And the angel offers no consolation, wrestling with words
Hear me! Hear me! He hears not
And the screams are a balm to the others.
The azure eye above seals fate in their catafalque--
In brief remembrance of the host and their parsec of loss,
The conclusion, an electric denouement, a splash of exhalation,
A remote offering to the gods of fire.
I saw them, the cleansing men.
I parked above the heap
In sordid indifference to their bestiality
Clinging to the apex of our nightmare.
Its' what they do
A rat gnaws
a snake slithers
........it's who they are
The jackass brays
without logic or reason
........loving its own voice
The wolf howls
pleading with the moon
.......a preyer unanswered
The hyena laughs
without provocation
.........a jester's nightmare
The eagle shrieks
in frightful free fall
...........a silent mouse freezes
The mocking bird mocks
all who are not like him
...............for he has no song
John G. Lawless
11/3/2020
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