Two-Thousand-7-Teen

Instead of shaking my head, biting my lip or waving my fist at this crazy thing we call humanity, I’ve chosen to quietly write a poem. My intention isn’t to offend, but if it does, please contemplate this question: Isn’t it better to express one’s disillusion creatively than…?

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Two-Thousand-7-Teen – – – – – – –

Angel hearts once made of gold

have turned to green, allergic mold

Acts of selfless charity

have turned to selfish memes of “me”

More and more the trumpet plays

More and more Lord Visa pays

Buying “bliss” at Jezebar

where clients hiss and “students” star

Will false idols lose their praise?

arousing cattle from their graze

Seers will boast, “most certainly”

and if they’re wrong, please don’t yell at me

 

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The Indispensable Camel

While trekking through the Gobi Desert, I developed a newfound appreciation for camels, the indispensable mammals of ancient and modern times, so I wrote a poem about them. It goes like this:

Graceful and grumpity

Loyal and lumpity

The camel treads on whenever she’s told

Mangy and moppity

Bouncy and bobbity

The camel delivers whatever she holds

A lifetime of work and little to play

She asks not for prestige, pity nor pay

Just a canopy of stars to guide the way

And a reasonable ration of flavorless hay

Quiet