Dear Ukraine, I am sorry to have to inform you
that you must keep fighting and dying.
Dear Russia, your options are to die or kill.
We have arranged to end this unfortunate conflict
in 5 years’ time on May the 8th.
If there are any folks left by then
may they at least know
that the American war machine
and its military industrial complex
have added much wealth to their coffers,
and have made great technical strides
in the deadly arts of selective destruction.
Yes, it's quite true that most Americans
could not find Kiev or Moscow on a map,
but the general public are most ‘gong ho’
about all this madness,
indeed, most seem sublimely unfussed
about the very real possibility
of a looming nuclear holocausts –
now that’s what we call patriotic!
Please be assured that our politicians and pundits
also seem ever willing for you combatants
to sacrifice your sons, mothers, wives, and daughters
until democracy, freedom, and the American way
are restored somewhere.
Now I stretch me down to rest,
I inform the devil my soul to dress.
Demons torment me through and through,
And vanish swiftly with the morning dew.
31-August-2021
If you are going to be away from soup for few days
Please inform us, a small poem to say I will be away
Remember you are a part of big family,
That too a family of poets,
Poets are empathetic and tend to worry
So it is your duty.
Note: Jennifer wrote a poem about sunshine shine missing from soup for 1 month. All got worried and frankly many negative thoughts come. So happy to know you are ok Anne Lise Andresen.
Bell
rings, chimes
hours, announces
weddings, war ends, death knells.
Bell shape hollow, inverted cup
resonates, polls, rings, dings, dongs, pongs and pings
to bring order to day's events.
Bells rung,
done
We regret to inform you
If it pleases the court
We enter a plea of guilty on all counts
Failure to obtain happiness
Failure to find the light
Failure to find humanity
Failure to find hope
Failure to see laughter
Failure to be
Failure, failure, failure
So be it the court accepts your plea
We the court of your conscience
We the court of your very being
We the court inside your mind
Hereby sentence you to
Death
Has the defendant anything to say?
I repeat, has the defendant anything to say?
Slumped in the chair of exposed misery
Nothing more or left to say
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