Dear World

Dear world - or at least the U.S.A. part of it - please stop calling me. I have cast my ballot, and do not need to be reminded to vote, nor urged to select your candidate, and no, I will not disclose my preferences. You need not ask my opinion of the victor of any made-for-television debates, since I will not watch them, nor will I listen to any post-partum analysis. I will be spending my time doing something enlightening and/or entertaining, like reading or thinking. There's a concept - thinking...thinking for myself. I might just find the means to unleash my genius and create a solution or two. Thank you, world. I appreciate your kindness in this matter.

For My Friend Tom

Can you believe it’s here once more,
time again for that annual chore.
People will sing, you’ll have to smile,
wishing to flee all the while.
There’s no use fighting now that it’s here,
this day you enter your 69th year.
I love you, man, but what can I say.
You’ll just have to suffer another birthday.
So be a good lad, a most charming boy,
be of good cheer, sit back and enjoy.

While I work on eight new, connected poems, I am having many scattershot head farts. This morning's:

"There's a difference between what's right and what's tolerable."

I am perplexed and bemused by the rage and indignation of the well-to-do, who have more than they need and more than they can utilize and enjoy, yet fear that they might lose something which they have had forever but never really wanted or used 

Refuse normalcy, it is not even an ideal goal, merely an illusion, an overrated one at that…then again, tuna salad on white bread tastes pretty good when you’re hungry

To the tune of Ol' Man River...

Ol’ man Romney,
That ol’ man Romney,
He must know somethin’
But he just says nothin’,
He keeps on pushin’,
Shoulder to the wheel,
But he don’t say nothin’,
No, nothin’ at all.

He don’t cook taters,
he don’t sew cotton,
and the women that do
are soon forgotten.
The average person
sweats and strains,
trickle-down’s a lie
that results in pain.

Tote them tea bags,
lift that bale,
the rich avoid taxes,
never go to jail.
I gets weary,
and sick of tryin’,
so much delusion,
so much lyin’.

Inspiration from the words of others

From the very first Poetic Bloomings prompt, and from the sensitive work of Marie Elena Good, entitled “Of Dandelions and Manicures””



"One scatters dandelion seeds,
Who understands a daydream’s needs."

MEG

I think of her often,
living in a smallish place,
a friend to so many,
living vastly flung.
I choose to think of her
with a broad smile,
sometimes a loud laugh,
at all times huggable.
I never consider
the possibility of frowns
or headaches,
or any other form of discontent.
It’s my daydream,
and I’ll have in it what I want.

Also from the initial Poetic Bloomings prompt, and from the passionate work of Walt Wojtanik,
entitled “A Touch”:



"It is desire of the highest power.
It has been left to burn unattended"

Maestro

There can be no turning back,
bridges blown asunder,
boats all sunk,
there is only forward in our plans.
It is not that we are brave,
simply that there is no choice,
courage not at issue,
as the fire rages at our backs.
We can cure the ills of the world.
We can. We will. We must.