Good Life

Again the sun begins to burn
as migratory birds return,
a giant V across the blue
to start the cycle up anew.

How many days like this are left,
how many strands to fill the weft
before we are, at last, bereft
of time to perpetrate our theft

of these few quiet moments here
upon a metamorphic sphere
with (currently) so few concerns
beyond what bounty being earns.

Hazy

All night the trains were restless
clatter clacking east to west
beside that swollen river
ever threatening to crest,

the ebon winged cacophony
that lands here every fall
became an eerie canopy
looming dark and tall;

as lunar luminescence
lingered lightly on the lawn
the promise of precipitance
demoralized the dawn

foreshadowing a dismal,
archetypal winter day
where everything once knowable
disintegrates to gray.

Severed

I’m feeling slightly out of sync
I don’t know what to do or think
for circumstance has shorn my link—

the funny thing about chasing dreams:
despite how close their capture seems
they fade as fast as futile screams.

Management

Convinced that copper has no worth?
Well my friend, have you ever worked
or worn a tattered, sweaty shirt
that (much like life) could not be shirked?

It’s doubtful that you’ll ever scratch
while scrounging for the scruffy scraps
revered by any weary wretch
that keeps resentment under wraps.

The jingle of impending change
commingles with the clink of chains
restricting a respectful range
when class related claptrap reigns.

Stimulus

Already, golden goodness starts to radiate
upon the crusty banks of gritty residue—
as cheerful chirping makes the morning chill abate
secreted dreams of freedom resurrect anew.

Exploding fiercely from the damply dormant sod
tenacious tendrils teeming with ambitious grasp
attempt to overcome the overwrought façade
whose insubstantial surfaces are hard to clasp,

while water reawakened from a crystal sleep
begins to stir lethargically and leave it’s bed
perennial pangs of passion that run so deep
revive what was reserved, but refuses to be dead.

Muss

Substantively we’re hollow
coarsely callow and pampered,
we’ve hampered our advancement
and enhancement through the languor
and the anger that’s our creed.

It all seems so uncertain,
like a curtain separating,
obfuscating an objective
and effective way to buffer
how we suffer and succeed;

but who am I to query,
form a theory or conclusion,
my confusion makes me wary
and contrary to the notion
that commotion fills a need.

Plowed

Institutions fall
rising profits stall
anxieties increase
until you want to bawl

the credit they extend
just wasn’t meant to spend
or dubiously grease
their hidden dividend

you can’t make ample feed
without a plot to seed
but never sign a lease
with harvesters of greed.

Flash

The faster we spin
the quicker we go
creating a din
attempting to know
our place in the mix
and how we can learn
what problems to fix
before we all burn.

Ahem

Some blabbers have convinced themselves there’s so much that they do
they can’t remember half of what they planned,
but talking isn’t quite the same as striving to pull through
a concept those of action understand.

Cropped

The disillusioned sheep
have woken from their sleep
their pastures aren’t as green
their wells don’t run as deep

deprived of those obscene
assaults on the machine
how rapidly their haughty airs
move closer to the mean

for nothing truly scares
contributors of tares
than finding they won’t get to keep
their undeserved shares.

Oxymoron

If only I could scribble verse
succinctly without seeming terse
adorning every strophe so
the image won’t disperse

and maybe satisfy a yen
of someone else who chuckles when
they read enough to know
I find escape within a pen.

Segue

The ghostly silhouettes of trees
accentuate the current clime,
so gaunt and lifeless in the breeze
devoid of leaves destroyed by rime
their bony limbs morosely mime

a tale of winter’s woeful span
when dreary dirges tend to loom
until the lively tune of Pan
accompanies the welcome boom
of thunder, calling buds to bloom.

Roundabout

A muse meant for me
can also (sometimes) manage to
amuse - meant for me
each nether nudge that filters through
propels my pen to plot anew
amusement for me.

Glimmer

Considering the vastness of an undetermined why
impatient to decipher hieroglyphics I espy
composed of glowing characters that captivate the eye.

It seems to be a message speaking urgently to me
but I can’t crack the code without some type of cosmic key
unless subconscious inklings can unlock the mystery.

This path of beaten stone conveys my often futile quest
to understand the knowledge that the heavens have expressed
so I can lay contentedly beneath the stars and rest.

Nuisance

Just cruising through the corridors
while everyone has kept
themselves aside, being courteous
but you are so inept
you blow right by, eyes unfocused
much too smug to brake
unmindful of the wreckage
that smolders in your wake.