Short Grubbing Poems

SHORT-SIGHT   IS NOT LIMITED TO PIGS



Swine scorn a pearl, greedily grubbing for truffles.
Their ignorant grunts are taken for granted.
They can’t see very much at all  -
Pigs just can’t see beyond the next acorn....

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money-grubbing relatives
oozed out of the woodwork and the shadows of greed
when Josephine’s death was announced
distant cousins she had not seen for centuries
demanded to know if she had left them anything
their audacity was irritating to those close to her
who had been taking care of her for years before the end....

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Utility companies are unforgiving. 
Relentless.
Mean.
Money-grubbing.
Nasty.
Then they add taxes.

Dirty coal tax.
Tuesday wash day tax.
Dog scratching tax.
Garbage day tax.

Always adding to your bill.
Never letting up.
I hate utility companies.
Others do too.

But can we eliminate them?
Apparently not....

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...a sun bounces off my shell
the rained-on attempt to hide
the damage the hurter from
inside my back is full of resin
and knots from a black apple
tree all the rivers show a new
face with old teeth and lips
that suck the failed light all
this makes me walk like a
deep sea diver grubbing in the
silt of sudden waves that soak
the drinking loam of a failed
birth as a sun bounces off......

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Desert dust devils reign supreme
Swirling in conditions extreme

Dry, cracked river bed yawns wide
Depleted source long denied

Armadillo negotiates
Lost to his instinctive traits

He halts to sniff a draught of air
Frenzied digging does then occur

Grubbing for ants, worms or mice?
He digs a deep hole in a trice

Ground darkens to a muddy brown
The scent of water.......his home found....

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Why am I drawn
to this scowling girl
selling her poems
in a Shinjuku underpass?

Every Tuesday she is here,
next to a Nikon ad,
threatening commuters
with her cyclostyled angst.

Busy people keep up
with the times,
do a tap dance
on their smartphones.

Only drunks buy poetry.
Grubbing for their last,
sweaty coins, they
mock her with every purchase.


First published in Eclectica Magazine...

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Life Is
Written: by Miracle Man
3/7/2020

Life isn't only wildflower picking,
but it's also about grubbing weeds.
Which flourish during April showers,
from seasons long past, and fallen seeds. 

Each day is determined by the thoughts,
incubated during my Rem sleep.
I sleep approximately four hours,
probably why thoughts, appear so cheap.


“More important than what others think about you,
is your self image, and what God knows about you.”
Tom
...

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Your wealth could work against you
When those around you are there for it
Your early death is of inordinate benefit
They then serve to facilitate the ending 

Those around are usually partners 
In a life where one lives in communities
Siblings, relatives & partners stay around 
Especially when the body gets weak with age

When those around fail to be true 
You become source for money-grubbing  
Even after they promote early earthly exit 
Your legacy gets traded to sustain cupidity...

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