Poems
by KJ Hannah
Greenberg
Doxed
Malicious intent, per publicizing private data, often dismantles atheneums,
Frequently undermines the ecological harmony of governments’ “checks
And balances,” remains notorious for replacing truth with word salad.
In most “domesticated” groups of people, it’s leaders who shuffle secrets to
Boidems, hide stained bedsheets from second-rate media, concurrently
Whistle dixie when polls point out their popularity’s tumbling.
Modernity would be less remarkable if ethologists turned their cameras
Toward humans. After all, kisugi’s only valuable when our original
Vessels become appreciated by the persons rehoming them.
Janky Advice
In a better world, perhaps, the multitudes will impugn all
Manner of pandering, will fill their mental punnets with truth
Plus its adjuncts. Our present reality, contrariwise, espouses no
Ecosophy, offers up few sunlit vistas into conviction’s emanations.
Poor quality, unreliable motes tend to naff off ethical souls.
As well, such expressions sit awkwardly with pious sorts who
Repudiate them. It’s merely the great unwashed who cling to word
Salads taken from literary founts regrettably resembling yak shavings.
For us, there’s only ennui and weltschmerz, just polemizing
About known veracities. We protest authenticity’s impenetrability,
Whine how philosophical armistices won’t ever accomplish illuminating
Antinomy, and bark that worshipping bookish postulates bests asphyxiating.
At Day’s End
At day’s end, somewhere between dusk plus nightfall,
When lies slip away to reveal select pinpoints of truth
Otherwise obscured by the comfort of practiced words,
Coldness sets in.
After dawn births, following a great span illuminated
Only by stars, maybe the moon, certainly chilled skies,
Corporal overspreads of dimness, shadowy gambolling,
We realize, indeed, what’s meaningless.
See, it’s during daylight, once flora blossom & fauna
Clamor, the moment intergenerational struggles surge,
That increase, regeneration, verity grapple, over again
To irradiate all that’s bogus.
