Written: May 28, 2025, for contest: Sponsored by: Constance La France
Quote: "If you come to visit my grave, my tomb will appear to dance."By Rumi
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Standing rocks that mimic megaliths rise,
Indicating where the eroding skull lies.
She was once a mother suckling with grace,
Now her bones swathed in clay, no embrace.
I was saddened to view this forlorn grave,
Infested by weeds that struggle to save.
The grass is dormant, giving way to seed,
In hushed sadness, I ponder and plead.
A father's shape, badly wrecked and torn,
His spirit, through rain and labor, had worn.
Typhus took a son, the hoped-for next,
There is no bloodline to rely on in a text.
A bright young daughter is now dead,
Struggling to deal with pregnancy dread.
Upon labor and loss, she faced searing harm,
Cradling in sorrow the one once so warm.
As we stroll through this calm cemetery, unwind,
Where mother, father, daughter, and son all lined.
Resting alone, with names engraved on stone,
I await and ponder when my body will be prone.
Q: Who is the current Chief of Staff?
A: The resident President.
Q: What is an old, lame, deaf, half-blind Sherlock Holmes?
A: A defective detective.
Q: Who is the magician who ate all the pasta when no one was looking?
A: The linguini Houdini.
Q: What is a day in the life depiction of the First Family on view in the rotunda of the White House?
A: An Obama diorama.
Q: What is a doctor who operates on a big fish to remove the roe?
A: A sturgeon surgeon.
Q: What disease did the star of "Veep" get from drinking unbottled water when she was in India?
A: Julia Louis-Dreyfus typhus.
Q: What is a debutante dance for snakes, alligators, etc.?
A: A reptilian cotillion.
Q: How do people in third-world countries view America's "open door" policy?
A: As an immigration invitation.
Q: Selfridge's was a fine example of what kind of department store?
A: A Victorian emporium.
Q: Where would you be if you found yourself trapped between this world and another?
A: In dimension suspension.
Birth of the Saviour, they announce
With beams of merriment, they bounce
Curiosity they provoke
Spirit-filled graces they invoke
Souls of the holy deities
Brim-fill with infinite gayeties
Beginning and end of a work
Resonates in any hill cirque
Sound of health and healing power
Ultrasound from the high tower
It's said they destroyed the virus.
Of influenza and typhus
Solemn sound atmosphere exists.
Where little bells have their tongue-twists
Emotive equilibrium
Destroys every delirium
The bell of baptism is my joy.
Wedding bells have their cute sly coy
Sadness fills my soul when a bell
Sounds into a dead soldier's knell
a new house
I saw a photo from a long time, so long it doesn’t matter when
the photo was taken; by a couple still youngish with four children
of school age outside a newly constructed house
The year was 1909. looked straight at the camera as was
the norm back then, they had the Sunday’s best on
The family was not prosperous but exuded repose of moving
into their own home.
The father looked like having a secure job, perhaps in a bank
or working for a railway company, the new-middle class
that with limited education, could do well and move forward
with enough money to give the children a good start in life.
They didn’t know of the many hurdles they would overcome
a war was on the horizon, perhaps the oldest boy would join
and overcome by trench warfare and dies of typhus.
We don’t know what the future holds but on this day. 1909. was
their happiest day, remembered as long as they lived.
No God for Expiation
By Sy Roth
Held in ungodly thrall
Their bodies wracked blasphmely dry
Loosley held together by the striped cloth.
Typhus-infested, David-starred beasts
Caricatures of humanity
Carved into beasts of burden
Only worthy of torture, or
Zyklon deaths---
Their punishment for existence
Work, arbeit, toil, till death,
Clock-seconds beating to an end,
When they strip their striped clothing from them.
Anxious to live,
The snakes slough the skin
And hide among them
Become lice-infected beings hungry for escape.
Concealed in the garb of the louse
They are revealed to the liberators.
The cockroaches exposed the beasts
Tore at them
Before they could find
Any God to expiate them.
thunder is a game i used to play
lightening is the reaction to the end result
hail is the expression of the record of my career and my life
the wind is the temperamental cry of my struggle in deep reflection
rain is the blueprint from which i construct the as presented to you and them
roots are the beginning processes of unbeknownst damage started by me
growth is the weeds untouchable by machete of scythe
foundation is the permanent tidal wave i cause when i mess up your brain with a fodder of falsity
poverty is the blues and the bruises that consume you take your walk the wrong way
arrow is the defiant daredevil refusing to let me forget the seeds that i planted once upon a time in a storm
flood is the blood rushing to my head as my prematurely age from the stress of regret
sewer is my final resting place where i die of consumption and typhus
There's a store I frequent they've got really good prices
Can't remember it's name, Naughty Beaver or Happy Typhus
Now I remember
Twas a jungle defender
Giant TIGER it is, needed all my mental devices
Kongo
Your past is a mint of blood and tears
Daughters tearing their way to decay
Sons castrated by poverty and superguns,
Kongo, a dream battered and bruised
Your conscience poliorised by oppressive dance
Highways clogged with hatred and vendetta
Gutters donating stench and typhoid
Kongo, let my poetry feed your withering dreams for guns, insult the tired memories
Of voters.
Kongo
Deine Vergangenheit ist ein Münzwerk von Blut und Tränen
Töchter die ihren Weg zum Verfall aufreißen
Söhne, kastriert von Armut und Supergewehren,
Kongo, ein Traum, mißhandelt und zerschlagen
Dein Gewissen poliorisiert von unterdrück'rischem Tanz
Überlandstraßen verstopft von Haß und Aktionen der Rache
Gossen spenden Gestank und Typhus
Kongo, laß meine Dichtung deine welkenden Gewehrträume füttern, die müden Erinn'rungen beleidigen -
der Wähler.
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