Nature hedges its bets with candles and suns.
Some lives flash briefly in fecund swarms.
Fireflies, mice, lice and mayflies—
scatter their bright fireworks shoals of living sparks
with a fanfare of hope into the wilderness.
Others linger slowly through centuries:
whales, tortoises, redwoods, sloths, and—us—
cherishing and nurturing a precious handful of progeny.
Evolution never chose one way to survive and bargain with time.
Scatter a hundred thousand seeds—or guard a precious handful of few?
It's either careful maintenance, patiently sustained and nurtured—
Or throwaway spam replacements with no warranties.
Yet nothing blooms forever here—not even the daisies.
Even the white stars in the sky above age to orange giants.
Collapse to dull red dwarfs,
then fade further, and implode into dark black holes,
where even time itself forgets what day it is.
So make hay while the sun shines.
Count not the days you're left—
count what makes days glow, and linger long in memory.
I don’t recognize this container I’m in.
Where did it come from and when?
It happened overnight, I thought I had time.
I thought I had braced myself for this inevitable transition.
But when the obvious became real
I was still caught off guard
Not willing now to sanction this transmutation.
It’s frustrating being forced to accept these changes.
I never agreed, show me where and when I signed up for it!
My mind tricked me.
The way I think is childlike and silly.
But the other day I went to scratch my head, and what I saw on my arms,
Made me feel scammed and caused me dread!
The fish scale, wrinkles and hanging muscles.
These can’t be my arms they’re my grandmothers.
I looked closer at this organism
And was astonished to find so many areas falling behind.
Where are the protocols in place to prevent this?
Where are the protocolist, The manufacturers warranties,
And general implements and installments.
I paid in all my life
And this is the assurance my insurance gives me.
Damn, I wish I would have read the small print.
For most of the people I know,
Our ages are starting to show
And since eyes, hips and knees
Don’t come with warranties,
To replace them’s the best way to go.
Thus, for cataracts or the main joints,
Pain or blurriness usually points
To a doctor who will
Send a Medicare bill
When a new lens or bone he anoints.
Just like houses and care, things wear out
And it isn’t enough just to pout.
Let the surgeon repair
What needs fixing, so there
Will be years left to gambol about.
What stands guaranteed?
The moon's drifting away, oh
inconstant cosmos.
Gravity fights us,
taxes come due, boys will org@sm,
some things are certain.
What about love? We
need extended warranties
for consumer faith.
Permanent pressed
love - no crumpled hopes
- investor safety.
“Love bonds”, or "emo-
care?” No worry, we’ll find a
marketable name...
p.s. I write short stories too =]
They told us to dream,
but there is this brand of dream
that is hard to imagine ... So, I'm picturing ...
and in this will-o'-the-wisp, I become
Desmodus Rotundus,
Vampiro en el grottos;
a travel pig for the mattock
pruning the roots of the people.
First off, I did not open up like eateries
... but I've watched senseless thoughts
eating what they should never eat,
rubbing their bellies to go home and discontinue,
but this was just the first wave.
At nightfalls, I scour the darkness
in the forbidden of Wuhan, sucking everything disagreeable.
I am saturated with wicked warranties,
nothing outrageously seducing, but brutally illogical.
I was horrified when society looked me dead in the eyes
before bringing down the meat cleavers.
They display me as Paniki to plan their murders,
they open up and invite me in, flesh into flesh ...
and flesh to flesh I swear to share
what I've buried in me as disasters.
There are souls more neighborly,
I hid what I portioned quiescent in their organs.
Only a mucous analysis notices it ... waiting ...
to strangulate the defenseless.
Life is brittle; it often falls and smashes the big noise.
Hold guns like bibles in both hands
Aim them in the air in any direction
For fun at parties invite them along
Polish off a bottle of whiskey first
Keep ammo in mayonnaise jars
For freshness cradle them like babies
If you must take guns to bed with you
Never feed them bullets after dark
Make sure they are warm and comfy
And bring their own blankets and pillows
To cover loud noises
To avoid indigestion
Remember guns kill
Keep them away from pickles in the fridge
And from children for their own protection
Read the directions on the box
Throw the manual in the fire place
Not the gun because that is dangerous
Gun control is like mind control
You must first have one to use it
Both come with sensitive triggers
With no warranties or returns to life
No money back guarantees
Our bodies, like machines, break down,
Their warranties expired,
So slowly we relinquish
Certain habits we’ve acquired.
The jog morphs into walking;
The glass of wine, a sip.
The dinners switch to “early birds”
At places not so hip.
The muscles and the joints get stiff;
We don’t move quite as fast.
A good night’s sleep is something
We remember from the past.
We visit doctors, hoping they
Can fix our aging parts
Which, with the help of meds, improve
But just in fits and starts.
Perhaps the future will include
A place that has displayed
Some younger versions of ourselves
So we can make a trade.
What kills
Are the thrills seem to have gone
Like my ever decreasing youth
I failed to use
The gift I abused
Thinking I was my God
I was entitled
My very own referee
Bingo Caller inches taller
Over all and sundry
But retracing my track's
My receipt's don't cover my taxes
Refunding pearl's in plundered shell's
Warranties have expired
Upon an ocean floor beside bald tyres
And discarded plastic bag's
On fish to snag
For 1 final thrill
Like growing up
I would kill
Glancing beyond a windowsill
Where The rain still dances upon the fresh cut grass
I can no longer smell or even tell cares
For the fresh air or sun
Bored as I of perpetual cutting and growing
Never knowing if anything else will ever take place
Or replace the 1st time feeling
Alive
Feeling
Anything but Hollow
A Candle in the dark
I could not see
A hand holding,
Could not hear
A voice calling,
But I was cold,
And sore for sight,
Was old
Long tired of night
And any spark would do
If in passing by chance
Was left
A glow of You.
A candle in the dark
No fancy cradle
Or proper handle for holding--
Not the slightest flutter of
Angel wings
Or strum of harps,
Reverent chant rising
From mysterious
Cloaked beings--
But always I have
Sensed Your warmth,
Safe suspension somewhere
Holding me
And anywhere will do
Because somehow
I know
At least
One supporting air
Is You--
A candle in the dark--
All warranties expired
None having ever
Been guarantees;
No sound trade-in
For newer model,
Too few years left
For loan-paying,
My little-light dimming
As The Thief
With illumination in his pocket
Slips silently away
As Time
Camouflaged as living
Leaves me where I started
But never doubting
In the end
To be led
Safely home
By Your loving candle
Out of my dark….
Villanelle: The Dilemma of the Non-Violent – 16
Covert modern State wiles mock Greek democracy
Must People cast votes to elect block Parties
Athenians all took part in vox populi
Founding Fathers of Great America Party
Chief Washington revolution guaranties
Covert modern State wiles mock Greek democracy
Corsican blood runs blue in French royalty
Scottish rites oath govern secret warranties
Athenians all took part in vox populi
Politicos Police legal fraternity
Avarice cruelty sexualities
Covert modern State wiles mock Greek democracy
No vote counts for individuality
All is grist to Big Money incongruities
Athenians all took part in vox populi
Will Grand Architect of Universality
Show his true face from behind inanities
Covert modern State wiles mock Greek democracy
Athenians all took part in vox populi
© T. Wignesan – Paris, 2015
On the first day of Christmas, net spammers sent to me . . .
. . . a cut-rate Canadian Pharmacy
On the second day of Christmas, net spammers sent to me . . .
. . . two insurance quotes
On the third day of Christmas, net spammers sent to me . . .
. . . three free credit scores
On the fourth day of Christmas, net spammers sent to me . . .
. . . four grow your *****
On the fifth day of Christmas, net spammers sent to me . . .
. . . five thousand dollars guaranteed!
On the sixth day of Christmas, net spammers sent to me . . .
. . . six extended warranties
On the seventh day of Christmas, net spammers sent to me . . .
. . . seven stock alerts
On the eighth day of Christmas, net spammers sent to me . . .
. . . eight work from homes
On the ninth day of Christmas, net spammers sent to me . . .
. . . nine Nigerian emails
On the tenth day of Christmas, net spammers sent to me . . .
. . . ten get out of debts
On the eleventh day of Christmas, net spammers sent to me . . .
. . . eleven singles meet ups
On the twelfth day of Christmas, net spammers sent to me . . .
. . . twelve hot Asian brides
Feel the sound off the leaves.
Trees are talking with a whispering wind.
Deep are my roots against my shallow soul.
Giants fell in the shadow of giants.
Spiritually free beneath my mind as the prison.
Derailed by the brain which is lost to the sanctuary of my pain.
Seldom shivers in quantity.
Tears runs into rivers next to unforgiving warranties.
Driven by nothing into the darkness by something.
Will I survive again by the depth I am willing to dive.
Hide by day to shine with the stars.
Nightmares are hidden when displayed in the shade.
My thoughts are corrupt by the longest of drops.
Edged by a mountain with far too much snow.
Treacherous treasures are collected to stimulate my pleasures.
My heart beats with the flames where the fire bleeds.
Death needs the dead as for I crave my bed in the sanctuary of graves.
One wish can only become true by the death of one fallen star.
Ashes to ashes before dawn and dust.
Blood lust can never be healed by nails hammered into rust.
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