In the illuminated grass
simple textured minutes pass,
overlaid by just one word
of repetitious garden bird.
Oh, we know that spiders creep
in their multitudes beneath
dishevelled emerald leaves. Steep
their fangs plunge; there flows Lethe.
Such action is as offstage as
human ignominy to human,
or quantum chaos, black hole mergers,
warm cud steaming in the rumen.
Take but few steps back indoors,
where TV's playing Al Jazeera,
and hear the horrors of the wars,
atrocities from Eritrea.
Here I see the sunlit grass
and feel a warmth of minutes pass
and meditate on 'cheep, sip cheep'
and let imagination sleep.
....................
Eritrean soldiers committing atrocities in Ethiopia, to be more accurate.
.....................
Bar-Mangled Flannel
Oh Ray could you see through Dawn's manly tights
as so loudly she wailed at the barbie's last weaner,
whose broad gripes from afar drove the clientele's fights;
o'er the bar stools we gaped as they bottled the cleaner.
God, she burst out so rare, threw mop bucket through air
and she mopped up that bar-room with Sudso to spare.
Oh say does that bar mangled flannel yet crave
the blood of the boozed and the vomit of Dave.
You gotta listen to this. It's so in the many keys of Q hahaha!
These are not people!
