Wednesday, December 28, 2016

Pathetic Fallacy

Rainy day 
Bubbles bubbles bubbles 
Bubbling buoyantly 

In the gutter they call life 
Floating by—oh, 
Oh, the joy of it! 

To see how hollow 
They follow one another all 
The while going pop, pop, pop, 

Never asking why 
They leave their troubles 
For the sweet by-and-by. 

NB: Originally posted December 28, 2016 and video-updated January 9, 2017.

Friday, December 23, 2016

Huuklyeand Cinquor on Transcending a Rat Race Mentality

Forget about that “better” mouse trap— 
Even if you should 
Wake to find the trodden 
Masses beating a path to your door,

Better you turn turncoat and get out 
Of the rat race rather than looking 
Down and thinking twice 
Too many poor dead 

Vermin already infesting the floor. 

Moderator’s comments: First off, Huuk’s “baneful” attack against one of the scourges of contemporary society i.e. the “rat race,” is diluted by too much reliance on mousy soporific bromides; secondly, where “a shrill piping of plenty” is clearly called for, he gives us an overdose of black-humored trumpery; finally, one wonders if it isn’t time for him to seriously consider retiring from the poetry wars and expend what’s left of his Parnassian energy on something more constructive, say like swatting gadflies that are always bugging our flying white horse Pegasus whenever it touches down to quench its thirst at the sacred Pierian watering hole.

Friday, December 16, 2016

Introduction to Heuristics 101

In which we will examine how 
Amongst other sundry occurrences, 
The path of least resistance sweeps 
You off your feet and with the greatest 
Of ease throws you over the nearest cliff. 

Sunday, December 11, 2016

Wintry Vigil

storm door knocking
in face of wind

seaman’s wife, son, daughter 
round table with mutt

under empty chair waiting 
for grace to begin. 

Tuesday, December 6, 2016

Generation of Vipers, Raymond, Washington, circa 1952

Reaping wheat 
Back in the old country, 
Mom was once attacked by a viper 
Whose head she crushed 
Under a rock before 
It could bite her, now had me 
As point man leading us 
Down narrow, overgrown 
Path infested with hard- 
Of-hearing innocent garter snakes, 

To our vegetable patch 
Five hundred yards behind 
The tenement house where 
You could see her crossing 
Herself and me pounding holy
Hell out of a pan so hard 
All unknown and treacherous 
New world devils would sense 
The urgency of the message 
And stay worlds, worlds away. 

Saturday, December 3, 2016

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