Weaving shade, nuance, deft subtle plots,
Leaving wry joke, ink commas, dots
dreams on script unfold, imbued with life,
schemes and clued-in darting figures now rife.
Taunting twist and turn in tale, pivot point,
teasing lavish scene, a buttressed hinged-joint,
matters key, core, glib, lax in broad domain,
scatters glee, sound hint, deep echo’s gold chain
In a world where you have to watch your back
Unable to tell friend from foe
Tiptoeing around the big issues
Until you are sure it’s safe
To let your guard down
The easier path is to simply shut up.
And in our silence our isolation grows.
When you get censored, or censor others
You also start to censor yourself
Not wanting to make waves
Destroy relationships, threaten jobs and reputations.
And when you censor yourself
Pretty soon you don’t even think anymore
Outside the box, with its velvet padded lining.
Pretty soon the world we live - in and out -
Is reduced to silence
And then it doesn’t matter much
What the box is lined in.
(10/16/25)
Loxodonta reduced
There are no big elephants anymore near where I live
you might have one or two on the savannah, but the new
modern elephants are much smaller
nature made them smaller to avoid the big white hunter
the overly masculine type who has mistresses
concealed but not too hidden, because if no one knows
why bother?
The smaller elephant has yet to get a proper name like
Loxodonta Africana has tiny tusks, not bigger than
bull's horn, feet too tiny to be made into an umbrella
holder, but it has adorable eyes, smooth skin, and smells
like a perfume shop.
Why should I care for the well-being, when so many
like in Gaza have bombs thrown at them, killing children
as many as ten thousand who are not old enough
to hate the dastardly tribe who have a hatred for any
one not like them
The Palestinians could have done as the tiny elephant
be docile to those who destroy their homes, look
picturesque when standing by the road begging for food
But no, they insist on getting their land back and
as a result of this stubborn attitude, in a way they only
have themselves to blame
Ted simply got self reduced;
Shown by Evidence produced.
His rash claims had been induced,
Jane having had him seduced
And the Quite False Ted adduced
After, he was introduced.
God, please, shame Jane and Constance
Now that Ted needs assistance
And is damned Weak Resistance.
Owner of the good is red
His sweat: now Jane's Daily Bread
"Just how could you Mister Ted
Another treat like The Dead?"
In these times losing your head
Over Eves that won't you wed."
The Number they provided
They later just reduced
And it was, yes, deduced
That they were not seduced
But that it was induced:
Ascending price of wheat,
Eagles trying to beat
Five Thousand Leaves a day
To one thousand gives way.
Now workers to just sack;
Their names to fill a sack!
to boil and to stew
is a fine way to view,
all the shedding skin
she holds up to show,
that she is changing
yes - rearranging,
as does a leopard
no - no - NO!
My life is far from perfect,
But it seems a better fit,
Now I try less to perfect,
And don't feel the need to throw a fit.
With only two to goals to perfect,
I am less likely to flit,
Insearch of perfect,
If all my energy is not used to flit.
Self-improvement will not make me perfect,
But it may make me more of a hit,
With those who look to me to perfect,
And don't like to be hit.
Looking to understand is my second goal to perfect,
Even just a little bit,
So my mistakes never land me in a mess that is perfect,
And my goal of self-improvement moves closer, more than just a little bit.
Pick me up
Pull me around
Once again
Drop me on the ground
Aches with pain
The only true pleasure
Riding on her back
To bury this treasure
Pearls and daimonds
Left as grains of sand
Now she fits
In the palm of your hand
Addicted and left wanting more,
She stays
But only to seek his true core
She digs and digs
To find no bottom
Her hands now scarred
From how she fought him.
Picking up her pieces
Slowly gluing them back together
Staring at the ground
Surrounding her, the stormy weather.
Looking up
With but a barren face
She goes.
Her dignity leaving no trace.
Let me down
And all will be fine
Pick me up again
And this time I'll shine
Pure Rubble Permanently Reduced
With dynamite bricks had been induced;
To pure rubble permanently reduced
Hardly believed what I saw in each eye;
All became dust floating into the sky;
In the end, a nightmare was produced.
Jim Horn
Now will have to read next two limericks.
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