the santa is coming

nsa tinsel and filament devices
elves a watching facebook and twitter
the santa is coming
who has been naughty or nice
on sled pulled by drones
war on terror so far unfinished
bringing gifts to a hurting poor
low pay, taxation and what of medicare
food bank turkey in a suspicious world
ho ho ho
debt advice and feeling jolly
check the tree for gps and listening devices
holly wreath marks the door
apocalpyse around the corner
automatic rifle and several handguns
a thousand tins of beans
wal mart generation
in a generation x world
fattened wealthy bulls work the market
bonuses pour from the sky
the santa is coming
ho ho ho
with foreclosure signs
and spooks past and present
the santa is coming
you must feel joyful and triumphant
hand on heart god bless everyone
one and all
primaries and elections
next on elves agenda
so use your time
and think
what do you want
ho ho ho

 

geometrics and some physical optics

he woke
he pissed
he smoked,
sat at the desk as others
before him,
heavy oak resonance,
with politicknife would cut policy
it had become about color,
the blue the yellow
strove to adjust to each other,
the red the green
so incompatible,
clarity was needed in misdirection
politicknife more palette than blade
scraped bluntly over canvas
to portray the country
texture and relief,
some of it muddied
stained like shit on a public toilet,
he spoke on TV
bright suited as a clown
body language and gestures
seen and felt as colors of betrayal
it was beyond functionalism
and wider knowledge
colors bled
every perception was not upheld,
people took to tree lined avenues
beneath autumn auburn,
held poster paint placards
chanting,
colors adjusted
all attitudes changed,
again at his desk
looking at errors of doctrine,
the religious confined to sunday
men of friday peace,
zealots who ranted for any god
they where unifying
he felt afraid,
colors that should never combine
on palette or canvas,
became alive,
betrayed inside government halls,
closed eyes so that the brightness
would not be visible,
humanities noose
had underwritten his future,
rainbows can be clutched
in eager hands and each strand
peeled apart
scattered
like shotgun pellets,
reflected refracted
no more distinction
it was over,
slashing the canvas
pissed over it
pouring gasoline
it burned,
defeat knew a cell door
and he was content,
within gray and bleak darkness
color could not and would not intrude
now he felt alive

and you know how to bake

around the mouth

cakemix stolen from the bowl

a taste of the unbaked

sweeter than expected,

holding back the urge

to lick lips noisily ,

washed it away

as a drunkard would

bottle sloshed whiskey

turned burnt caramel,

bowl slipped from edge

of table with enormous shatter,

pieces glazed

spread as his foot got cut

spilled as a sacrifice

for he was a prophet

born in anticipation

growing to expectation,

the world full of paraphernalia

that only a poet mends,

blood painted in circles,

scratching balls in shorts,

where was the thunder

to his profanity,

his stem to water

those fragrant vaginal daisies

errors and promises,

love had entered an interval,

trumps inflated cotton,

she came to see

shaking head

ash fell from her cigarette,

they had binds

beyond gold bands

and a chapel promise,

no atomic desolation would separate

leave it she would say

taking his hand

led to another room

more doors away from

the violent splatter on the walls

best to ignore

her voice sleepy not unsound

sat limply hung out to dry,

she stood adjusted nightgown,

it would be clean,

and wounds heal

maybe the interval was over

dVersePoets

Sunday Whirl

A poem for dVersePoets and Sunday Whirl , dVerse needed a beat sound and i hope i hit the notes

 

 

state visit

grand palace of united creatures

stage to the supper of presidents and kings,

finest foods the forest could provide

cutlery shone on butlers jacket

and in their finery they arrived

stoat,

weasel,

ferret,

mole, badger and toad,

to eat and speak confidences made

treaties broken amended and signed,

it would be a glorious affair

trumpets and choir,

long oak table shone,

voices hushed as speaker spoke

in long oration,

nodding and quietly assured

they waited to speak there turn

as fine turnip soup was served

laden with cream and pinch of pepper,

toad wanted to be center of attention

without his contributions all others

would fail,

badger muttered under his breath,

too many times when the others had

been awash he had bailed them out,

mole was pleased with his display

all seemed so merry

without fox who stayed away to

the east snapping grumpily at

his pack,

blackberry wine flowed

differences appeared

it declined as dessert appeared

your just a stoat someone shouted

badger roared overturning table

seed cake rolled

as food fight ensued old hatred emerged

mole hovered in the middle

watched as all crumbled about him

anger consumed as reddened faces

spat angry words,

tomorrow there would be war

someone would be overthrown,

and what of mole

confused in his coalition with

the silent absent owl

should he return to the

underground creatures

that adored him,

not knowing how to stave off

economical collapse

or tidal surge of opposition

meekly snuffling

into a hand stitched handkerchief

knew his days would end in

prison

Helen Ward