Good thing we came home early with our cellphones.
Buddy had already ordered two truckloads of bones.
We took pictures to prove on social media how smart he is.
He ordered some weird dog food too called Puppy Wizz.
His comrade in crime, Sophie, was supposed to be the look out.
She was sound asleep on the couch; in the way of our route.
She had slowed us down, giving Buddy time to turn off the computer.
He had also called the vet and cancelled his appointment to neuter.
Good thing we came home early with our cellphones.
Buddy had already ordered two truckloads of bones.
We took pictures to prove on social media how smart he is.
He ordered some weird dog food too called Puppy Wizz.
His comrade in crime, Sophie, was supposed to be the look out.
She was sound asleep on the couch; in the way of our route.
She had slowed us down, giving Buddy time to turn off the computer.
He had also called the vet and cancelled his appointment to neuter.
Put up your wire fences, the Mask polizei, too!
Or holy than thou neighbors who call the police to report you.
Such immoral, weak Gestapos, they!
They need leather SS jackets, I say.
Try me! Put up your fences!
I'll get on that beach and hug my love on benches.
Since when do bold Americans fold?
Where's your backbone gone, has it turned to mold?
Tell me, why do you really think,
A mayor can force you to stay home, or drive you to
the brink?
Lockdowns apply to prisons, not to homes.
You paid for your home, get out and roam!
Look outside, is there a obese, burly guard there?
No, not even one, nor a cute fuzzy hare!
Sanitizers, masks, paper products made truckloads
of money.
The rabid fear has cost you money, honey!
Stop the insanity, All, do defy.
Or~ you may have to keep shaking inside.
With CNN, as your most negative,
Anything but spiritual or hopeful guide!
Till the day I die, I cry:
"Defy~ Defy!"
May 20, 2020
10am PST
Poem#1281
Saša Milivojev - A CHALICE OF GORE
Silence bites
Below school's stairs
Trickling tears of fervent gore
From thy brethren's veins
Their cups to the rim they pour
All is shattered in the blast
Heavens echoing with silence
Dracula is licking his lips
Threading fingers through their tears
Pouring for his laughing friends
Ask why, if you dare,
on your blood they're feasting
you may lose your ears
the screwdriver your skull may be piercing
Chainsaw by the school
Truckloads of dead bodies
Buckets of ice of kidneys galore
Bloody lakes bear witness
Yet the World 's watching
Mercilessly
My torn heart
Still is beating
While a crow my heart is eating!
In that chalice of gore
Flows all evil of the world
In it glisten child's eyes innocent
Shattered by the blitz
Voiceless stone
Sing of malice
Of the stake
Of the rope
Never will it pass
Our torment's toll
Rivers of blood will forever flow.
Saša Milivojev
Translated by Ljubica Yentl Tinska
visit: www.sasamilivojev.com
COMPUTERS AND BINARY CODES
Computers, computer science, and binary codes
Are a pain in the neck and other parts of the anatomy
They cause confusion and misery by the truckloads
In order to cope, one almost has to attend an academy
Computers have become a necessary evil today
They seem like a demon of sorts has been turned loose
I know less about a binary code than I do about ballet
And for the science part of it, I simply have no use
The only reason I tolerate computers is Poetry Soup
Without it my poems could never be read
And that would make my spirits droop
And my ego would never get fed
So I'll just sit in front of this one eyed monster
And keep writing poems that people hopefully enjoy
While at the same time I will ponder
Another method the world could employ
To simplify life, yet inform the world
Of the beauty that poetry can give
And computers, as well as smart phones be hurled
Into space to simplify the life we must live
5 October 2018
For the contest sponsored by Brahn Bailey
I am in my beautifully decorated office where I have dragged overflow
A baby gift that should have been given over to the new mama long ago,
Reams of paper that are not going to walk themselves to the printer.
Notebooks and pencils that could be put on a shelf for the winter.
It is weird that my office was gorgeous for a month or so
Then I started dragging and dumping when I should have said whoa.
Sure in three weeks I discarded seven truckloads of junk
But to think I am a neatnick is a complete load of bunk.
The real problem is that I started five projects at the same time.
They overwhelmed me, shut me down, and gave me walls I wanted to climb.
I have not seen my relatives or my friends although three weeks I have been home.
I am sorting and throwing, every pencil box, toothbrush, and comb.
When I get finished, it will be such a welcome sigh of relief.
Packrat people should move every year or two is my honest belief.
I should be jumping up and down in delight
Congratulating myself profusely for
Getting rid of four truckloads of stuff
I was not using and probably would have never used.
But instead I am thinking of how
Much more there is to do. Yes, there is a lot.
I have accumulated this junk over eleven years.
Should I really be kicking myself that I have not
Gone through all of it in a week?
I am trying to reason with a self that is choosing
To not be reasonable. I want it all gone right now!
My unreasonable self is screaming. It felt so good
To see the closet door again!
We begin our daily tussle.
In Faraway Land, Where Sweetest Rhapsody Abides
In faraway land, where sweetest rhapsody abides
there is hope and smoke in tight little curls;
with life's mysteries and all that it hides,
deep romance and those tasty little hidden swirls.
In distant land, sweet dreams arrive by truckloads
with fire that sets one's soul alight;
one has but to walk barefoot on such dusty roads
to find joy overcoming dark world's blight.
In dear heartland, eager sings love's magic touch
where just one kiss can bring eternal bliss;
all the days of joy almost seem too much,
with dreams fruiting love, one dare not miss.
In homeland, rests blessings of family and friends
every dawn brings light and promised new start;
youth with hope and ambitions that never ends,
dance with maidens with purest love in each tender heart.
Robert J. Lindley
July 19th, 1995
The Passing
There is always a bridge a San Luis Ray we have to cross on
the fateful day when it collapses, but we are not alone many
others some quite young will also be on that bridge.
We can blame the constructor of the bridge – Haliburton – or
blame the state for lack of upkeep, heavy truckloads or shoddy
workmanship. And like the friar in the novel by Thornton Wilder
go looking for an answer; there is none, and there should not be
any because it is irrelevant on that day whether you use
a rowing boat or use a bridge on your way to Hades; the solace
is as in the song “you will never walk alone.” Sung by Liverpool
football supporters
So the summertime stayed all winter,
And Amy was washing ponies down.
We were a weary collection of skin touchers.
Though nothing was ever conniving
Or deliberate.
We made haste to make room for laughter…
We sung like crocodiles under the moon.
We only used food stamps, even if we have truckloads of the stuff.
We cried a lot.
Not knowing why and not caring.
We felt like individuals, though we knew nothing was disconnected.
Every season does what it wants.
And it appears summertime stayed forever.