Cicada’s droning
Underscores the joyful noise
Of children playing
Cicada’s droning
Underscores the joyful noise
Of children playing
Fire in the sky
Tunguska taiga laid flat
Some still wonder why
Vase with bright flowers.
Summer’s sole glimmer warms, this,
Her winter cold room.
George Armstrong Custer
made Brigadier General
at the age of twenty three.
Gavrilo Princip
Kills Arch Duke Franz Ferdinand
Lame Casus Belli
Oh my aching toes!
Young driver enthusiasm
wounds me to the sole.
Who knew industrial grade
steel toed boots were required!
Somebody, somewhere,
do something good! Anything!
Today is boring!
Why do we wait here,
Day after day expecting,
Anticipating,
Waiting for things to improve?
Perhaps we could move,
A little today, acting,
Not just reacting,
To make things better, improve?
That sure beats just sitting here,
Waiting for the Earth to move.
Both hope and power
Have been restored around here;
Except on my street.
My benighted block remains
Empowered only by hope.
Schrödinger’s Character resides
Safe inside that DVR box.
Caught in the state of quantum flux,
Both alive and dead he will remains
until by pressing play,
you collapse the quantum state
And, in the act of doing so,
fix and seal his fate!
Canterbury monks
report the moon exploded
throwing out molten lava.
The Pipers grin, and fan this Flag debate,
incite this nation to gyrate.
Now some of us think, “Ain’t this great!”,
as we leap right into that quagmire,
dance St. John’s dance and hallucinate
as if inflamed by St. Anthony’s fire.
Those evil minstrels must think us fools,
gullible, unthinking tools.
They build a madcap set of rules
And watch the herd beasts prance.
If we give in to these evil ghouls,
we all will swing in St. Vitus’ dance.
You can love your flag or scream and shout,
but I think I’ll sit this dance out.