CLOUD meanders over the sunshot field; good
REHAB for a man of my years and modest wisdom;
WHINE away – yes, I do – along with the bee and
THORN bird, impaled as he or I might be, in the heart.
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Veni, Creator Spiritus
CLOUD beckoning with dry earth’s relief-yet
THORN will grow alongside stalk and leaf,
REHAB of self is not rebirth,
WHINE tinged voice in future will signal spiritual dearth.
Desperation
CLOUD of dust chasing the Doppler-ed
WHINE of the jet escaping from its
REHAB of fuel and repairs––physics and gravity always a
THORN in the side of desperation.
Woke: awake!
BROWN-minded from despair, and all those
WOKE-Nigglers who say how much they care; O-
VARY the tune a little, Wokes, let me play happily just for once in a
FIELD where privilege and offence aren’t niggling at the rest of us folks!
Vary this Vale of Death
FIELD uniform slept in, weapons at hand,
WOKEN to another assault, in unstaunched flow of assault,
BROWN mud everywhere, last tree and shrub smashed,
O, VARY this vale of death, that life might vanquish death!
Unfamiliar Territory
WOKEN to alien surroundings:
FIELD of broken stones and grass long since
BROWN; this place an erstwhile
OVARY of civilizations now barren.
Bear of little brain left
CHOCK full of the mind-searing joys of
OPIUM, I raise up what’s left of my brain and
CYNICally ravage the savage
HORDE of naysayers.
Over Prescribed
OPIUM-based medicament, over prescribed in greed,
CHOCK to soul’s agency, arresting wheels of life’s motion,
HORDE of the spiraling, compounding suffering with despair,
CYNIC watches cash-in for enslavement, nods: humanity at work.
Garbage mouth
REVUE begins; instant garbage
SLUSH from the comedian’s mouth
REPELs this audience member. I
YIELD my ticket and go home.
Amusing Ourselves to Death
OPIUM of the masses ready to deliver, no
CHOCK to stop the wheels of demand, no
CYNIC’s warning heeded; the will of the
HORDE must be sated.