Not so very long ago
When I wanted to bake
I would go to my cookbooks
For a recipe to make
Tattered and stained they were
History literally splattered on
Notes written like ‘doubles well’
Or ‘sponge cake by Yvonne’
….sometimes even a photo…..
Today for recipes I scroll the net
Searching methodically
For the only tab I want to find
Labelled ‘Jump to Recipe’
Now, I don’t know about you
But I don’t want to be besieged
By pages and pages of text
Cut and pasted for me to read
I know it’s to maximise SEOs
And other such kinds of device
But for God’s sake, get to the point
When ingredients and method suffice
I don’t want to know the origin
Of different pasta shapes
Or how cinnamon got its name
Or rare varieties of grapes
I have no objection at all
To a small communique
But screeds of text turn me off
So I’ve ordered a takeaway
Trump returned home, empty handed
while in Congress Cohen grandstanded,
recounting more malicious misdeeds,
as sycophants yell pro-Trump screeds;
Trump paid off mistresses, faked his wealth,
conducted illegal acts and obscured his health;
lied to German bankers cause he wanted team,
football gods blocked that particular dream;
Trump again contradicted intelligence minders
hoping our citizenry wore its bullsh** blinders;
while followers racist and nationalist incited,
how much longer before this man’s indicted?
Cutting steel to finalize this fabic
Emotional rollercoast revealed
Time, space, and money cause a panic
What coursing accidents sent concealed
And left me reeling to feel
So many thoughts striking against grain
To convert an obscene normality
And cast judgment against reality
What folly of children into men
Adolescent disease peeling screeds of doubt
Tossed about this mercury mind
Where reality unfolds in time
Metaphysics hitting bliss, body in line
Crystallizing the cryogenic value
One day to join the fantasty
And match risk to nothing left behind
America heard you singing, Walt,
And stopped to listen. That's our fault.
Now our "poets" ever since
Have written stuff that makes one wince.
They say you've been our nation's bard;
We should have been more on our guard.
Now our narcissistic screeds
Blight the land like noxious weeds.
Self-absorption is the tool
That makes a poet a goddam fool.
You should be made to pay a fee
For setting such a poor e.g..
Poetry should reach our minds
But your stuff's just a rant in lines.
You've dragged us back. We have no hope
Of catching up with Donne or Pope.
As for your democratic bearing,
I didn't see you greatly caring
When your Captain's lust to ravage
Gave the world collateral damage.
Even fig leaves teach us something.
But leaves of grass cover nothing.
I wish you were at least a clown,
So we could laugh you out of town.
I salt the soil of my mind
spew forth a regurgitated mash
of syllables and vowels
meted out in a rhythm
only a lunatic could dance to
Buy me a package of
instant identity- a dash of Plath,
some Tagore for good measure
that I would no longer be distracted by
the sound of my own pen tapping
on an empty page
Deceitful brain!
How you've betrayed me
Your promise is dry ink
and screeds of nothing
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