We've Learned It's
Moot
We've learned
it's moot to drone like insects
Over
subordinates appreciation or lack,
Thereof with
regard to the Hippie Era.
Youngins
cant know Vietnam, Woodstock
Or
illegally-sourced marijuana. Theyre
Oblivious to the
nuances of middies.
They think
free love is one-night stands,
That beads,
froes, plus crazy hair comprise
The difference
among contemporary classes.
All along, they
forget that social media never
Really brought
peace, good will, equality.
That race,
gender, and age remain problems.
Today, more than
before, posers wish for easy
Rides, seek
solutions like unicorns and fairies,
Recoil from
walking the highway of justice.
Lost Potential after
Lambing
Children are
especially distrusting
When faced with
choices among elderberries,
Blackberries,
green hazelnuts, dandelions
Partridgeberries
and bands of convicts.
In contrast,
living on several continents, developing accordingly,
Brings flame
pictures, images of female forms within parameters
Of prayer
trances. Additionally, syncredic, private geises teach
Means to upload
kaijus, jungle beasts, plus other awful critters.
Many days'
loneliness outdistances
The separateness
of shore wind walks,
Forced marches,
requisite meditations,
Even solo
woodland orienteering.
Using borage, to
treat lambs superficial infections,
Makes
temperaments leap between poetry and law,
Lost potentials,
cycles spent in vicious waste, maybe
Also mitigatory
wrath, grief, harshness, and petrichor.
The Mages Incomplete
Solace
I purr to myself; no one else works
clever enough to wrestle silver-fanged beasts,
Alone, during shore walks, combining
brine from disparate lands asylums.
I sing to myself; no one
else
demonstrates successfully built connections,
Among tawny dandelion, green-leafed
magic, sour enchantments.
I talk to myself; no one else listens
with equal terse, attentive charm,
While disassembling possible futures,
thistle-like energy, scurvy.
I keep to myself; no one else shares
such predisposition toward sharks, eels, lice,
Amidst psychic awareness, astute
probing of hinterland buoyancy.
I worry myself; no one elses
consolations stream from capitulums sacred cavities,
When strumming perdition for founding
citadels, or championing unredeemables.
I shock myself, no one elses
behest brings brands bovine flesh, studied knots,
Among parasomatic links, as well as
redirected water and indiscretions.
I deride myself; no one elses
dallying causes thermodynamic angst, ionic rage,
During transforming from maid to crone,
morphing from rags to rags.
I despise myself; no on elses
archetype squeezes personal valor, grandmothers mischief
Because rising suns plus daisies,
winging geese, young sentries, spiders, yet shiver.