Category: StevenRobertson

WOKEN to alien surroundings:
FIELD of broken stones and grass long since
BROWN; this place an erstwhile
OVARY of civilizations now barren.

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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.

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YIELD sign ignored, tires squealing and sliding in the
SLUSH darkening on the roads, water and ice
REPEL the tread and send cars spinning in a
REVUE of whirling dervish-mobiles.

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PLIER marks from a million times I had to
RESET the grip on the bolt made the edges
FUZZY, but at least the noise that kept us
AWAKE has changed keys.

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ELFIN fish dart in and out of the
WRECK strewn across the ancient
CANAL. A family of predators is hard to
ELUDE…doo doo doo doo doo doo doo

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FRANK could play anything from country to
SALSA, and though his dear wife was deaf, they
FORGEd ahead making music a major
PLANK in the family platform.

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DEBIT my account, even though it
GRATEs on my nerves––
LOUSY room only has
VALUE to the mice in the walls.

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DITTY started, but the singer carries the tune in a
SIEVE, the band struggling mightily to
ADAPT, but mostly just praying for an escape
CHUTE to whisk them away…

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OZONE smell fills the air where the
QUITE close––too close––lightning struck like a
NINJA. Me taking cover? Not so much. No
AWARD for grace or poise forthcoming.

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SUAVE, debonair, I’m sure I look; by hook or by
CROOK I thought I’d win them all over––until reality
THREW me a curve ball, and I at last
BEGIN to see it’s a funhouse mirror before me.

See more at Notes by Steven.