His Master’s Voice?

They must think us dogs

salivating to their bells

doing tricks for tiny treats!

~

And how can they not

when we drool at every cue

playing games they tell us to?

~

Is there any choice?

After all, they hold the cards

and set the rules we must regard.

~

Why must we regard

their arbitrary edicts

when their only care

is their self-serving interests?

Bite the hands that feed, I say!

Ignore their strident bellows!

Exercise our every freedom!

Let us run across the meadows!

Rondeau (experiment)

Caution! I’m beginning to play with a 13th century French poetic form. Read with care!!—

“On The Border”

~

Beneath early autumn sun

Across crystal azure skies

A solitary owl flies

And tiny, frightened, vermin run,

Homeward, nightly battle done.

~~~
Under ever watchful eyes

Beneath desert morning sun 

Frightened desperate people run

From the torture and the cries

As the wounded die beneath.

~~~

From high above the “shining” shun,

Mouthing, loudly, lofty lies

As, far below, the “vermin” flies

Hiding from the haughty gun,

And gilded boot they shy beneath.