The coal mine of drainstream life.
Is predating the Canary in journalistic
Terms' under a banking strike.' De-banked
As per the central plank, of an atrack
Now i'm not political' yet i see free speech
As most critical.' Its abhorrent to so be'
And quite un-holy, as much, as is the vatican] see.' This cabalistic attack, a stab
In freedoms back, here my only agenda
Is that coherent reporting be not constrained by otherwise profligate spenders, wake up be aware, we need
Free speech forever and always to be there.' its jyst so splendid and i for
One hold it very dear.!
"Another day, another dollar;
a day late and a dollar short."
Here summer comes early.
Mostly, it never really leaves.
Here there are fresh-faced
children -- but they will change.
Boys will ripen to close
copies of their fathers --
those many sullen somber
silent men. Girls will mimic
still their mothers, aging
early in summers' petulant,
pervasive, potent green.
Here hopeless men will not
expose, in words, their griefs --
since there will always be only
the harsh monotony of each
tomorrow's changeless green.
Around sun-reddened weary necks
hang heavy burdens, weighty worries
never lessened, the endless summer's
cruel paradox: how such paucity
of hopeful human spirit festers
in the midst of profligate abundance,
this all-enveloping, overgrowing green.
“The fool doth think he is wise, but the wise man knows himself to be a fool.”
~William Shakespeare, As You Like It, Act V, Scene I
I weep by the stardust shore where seraphs sing
Tangerine tears rain despair ‘neath a velveteen veil
My melancholic muse, muslin-wrapped in ice-cold caskets
Slain by ruinous romance swirled in absinthe abstractions
Despondent sloughs bespeak the depths of my soul
Saffron scars scream sonnets through metaphorical mists
Morose melodies paint scabs on pastiche strophe
Pregnant pause, so precious, submerged in lurid lament
But then it whispered, a voice unvarnished by purple plumes
A verse, it bloomed, untainted by thesaurus bleeds
Sculpting off silken scaffolds pasted upon profligate poetry
Leaving a profounder palate for plainer prosody
Fools thought wisdom speak in sequin-laced soliloquy
But wise men abrade from calligraphic charade
Once upon a licorice stick, I pondered
While dancing on a thistle protruding
After my paycheck I duly squandered
So poor was me wound up concluding
‘Tis not very wise to waste my nickels
Like a drunken, unmindful profligate
On silly baubles, sodas, and popsicles,
I’m not a rich Far Eastern potentate.
When lastly, I could afford only licorice
Living impoverished with nary a thing
My attitude becoming rather bitterish
My entire legacy being a piece of string!
Written August 4, 2022
The eagle is hurting –
His wings snipped,
his majesty vacated;
replaced by the rats
of pigeons: Just a gray
common color – what
is left of a flamboyant soul
once the spectrum of individuality
is gone – bleached out by
Marxist designers and
and pressers. They plan for
the people the garments
of slaves – hoarding Gucci's
and Cassini's for themselves
and profligate offspring –
Equality seldom reaches
beyond their walls...
never approaching their
Elite doorsteps, paved
with slates of innocence....
Never throw a tirade at a parade,
Or castigate a wealthy profligate
Do not endanger the park ranger,
Or roller skate at the Watergate
Careful always to recoup the poop,
One never ever makes a group
Expect the worst if lips are pursed,
Avoid, if possible, being coerced
And always assemble yourself
Before sitting on the top shelf.
written July 28, 2021
..............................Profligate ornate attire
Awful music, dance
Asian transgender bender
anyone goes trance.
When makeup undone
Worries back on old faces
No one is for none.
07 July 2021
Seguidilla Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: William Kekaula
Sad that once I immersed myself in bitter feuds
Add them to early years consumed by madding fears,
Clad in times, as well, by lingering angry interludes
Had I not spent a profligate youth in pubs with beers.
Lest one think my whole life was lived entirely in vain
Best consider the times when good values prevailed,
Blest by sunshine, better angels conquered the pain
Rest assured, in life, one could say I have not failed.
FIRST PLACE WINNER
written June 8, 2021
for "Lento - 8 Lines" Poetry Contest
sponsored by Joseph May
To be so rich that we can buy
whatever we desire to
They'll envy us, who just scrape by
To be so rich...
We'll lust and love, just me and you
What need our souls to edify
With pleasure's bliss, our rendezvous...
Do I detect a faint soft cry
of prayer unread from empty pew
The profligate sure mocks life's why
To be so rich...
For you there was new epoch
beyond the synagogue
when in religious solemnity
you converted to Christianity.
You wanted to support
King and the Church
but you were also open
for political change.
Your trophy was not only
in your political philosophy
equal with propaganda
and your satires
on profligate oligarchy,
sectarianism, collusion,
of the Ministers
and their illustrious illusion.
Comely
Calmly
Slowly
Proudly
Windmills comely, calmly generate
Power slowly proudly profligate
Nay,
You are not uncouth;
There is something I never taught you:
When my mother told me to play tennis at school,
And advised me to swim at school,
When she networked me with the best of her people;
And she hid my shame, or indeed I was profligate.
When my steptather bought
Me a marble stone chess set,
I had done well at school;
I was motivated by materials.
When I fled the good in your mother,
After listening to the whispers
Of the evil one;
Indeed, I left you exposed;
But your mother hid my shame;
Never taught you to disrespect me;
It is a tall order, now that I am back,
I am not heavy handed, time is all that it takes;
I love it when we sit in the club,
Play a game of snooker or two;
You are now like my brothers,
Standing shoulder to shoulder with me;
It is all I ever wanted;
Tears in my eyes!
The rain held off
'til I made it to my car
a few blocks away after work.
The labs show my cough's
on a relative par
with most quirks.
My son has his head on straight
daughter is profligate
in the most beautiful way.
Their dad slowly shedding his hate
my ex-lover has a new mate
who's encouraging his feng shui.
Flowers are blooming
universe grooming
us forcefully gently for pay day.
Spring
springs forth with Usain’s sprint
Like thunder it bolts in speed of lightning
Sullen cold winter lags
Out of breath in nature tracks, it gasps
Nature re-covers with green grin and lily white smile
Bathed with conqueror’s shower, in sunny glory it basks
The grown and growing lightened of season burden
Clothes and caution thrown to the winds
In utter abandon boobs, bras burst loose
Like stray dog willing to make home of anyplace:
Male’s imagination in horror flight
Kindled fire of fiery, unbridled passion
To Eden’s couture, the profligate returns
Guilty as charged, they bare it all in chagrin shame
Was it too cold for comfort
or better cold than brazen?
Is this a shameless summer
Or do we invoke a spirit of another icy cold winter?
No gas in Nashville,
Palin Posturing,
A nation deceived by identity politics and the pernicious sting of white privilege,
Countries spoiled by profligate consumption,
Chinese writhing under the weight of Mao’s legacy,
The earth mourns the blood spilled by the sport of the hunt,
Drilling, drilling!!
Raping the very dust that birthed us,
Lord Yahweh, Vishnu, Allah, Jehovah, Jesus, and Krishna,
I can see you on your throne, weeping, screaming to your progeny,
Wake up my children, Wake up!!
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