Arithmetic Will Not Suffer

There's nothing less comforting than comfort.

Salmonella typhi will do the trick--

He's the kind of germ that'll make you sick!

Maintaining requires constant change

Staying still means falling back

Change requires maintaining and constant change

Giraffes are broken in the forest edge

In visible arrays across the savannah

Behold! An eschatology of man!

We'll surely end as mankind once began,

Evolving into something else--no plan

Can get us there--just know we will and can.

Deciding it was time to go insane,

I chose to be a poet.

Hallucination

We always feel so heavy when we're high--

We think an altered mind will make us fly.

Ending the Siege

There once was an old, wicked witch

Who with her old, warped, crooked switch

Made a castle a sponge

And then, with a lunge,

Made its moat into a mere ditch.

A Serein-Filled Today

I gotta finish what I started

I'm crafting sounds no-one has heard

I can’t leave here all heavy-hearted

And still full of these rhyming words

These words my soul has carted,

Both fly up a single bird

And I know that I know what all that I must say

Both tomorrow and a serein-filled today.

 

You ask me why do I sing?

Well, I just feel l should be singing.

You ask me what does it bring?

Well, what should songs be bringing?

You ask me is this just a fling?
Well, what should I be flinging?

But I know that I know what all that I must say

Both tomorrow and a serein-filled today.

 

Each life lays out its feathered, arrowed arc

You can never know its bend

You fill it like a sacred ark,

You fight and you defend

But in the end the meadowlark

Knows how this all will end

So, I know that I know what all that I must say

Both tomorrow and this serein-filled today

 

I gotta finish what I started

But which no-one has heard

I can’t leave here all heavy-hearted

And still full of these rhyming words

These words my soul has carted,

Both fly up a single bird

And I know that I know what all that I must say

Both tomorrow and a serein-filled today.

 

Sir!

The melted sand made clear

With cooling, dew drops dripping down,

Is full of carbon—hear

It rising through the bubbly brown

Liquid… just call it Coke.

Be Pop, commercial—do not frown 

At beauty, if it’s broke

Or bellicose or makes you drown.

 

The Teslas fill the street—

My son, he sees them all, YouTube

Had laid them at his feet—

He plays the game, he is no noob—

Electric as his brain.

The carbon-powered owner, rube,

Won’t see that all he’ll gain

Is formula when there is boob.

 

It’s fire, these modern words

That bubble up and pop the scene—

Some will curdle, curds

Of metaphors we’ve mixed, obscene

To expert, elite ears

Who get too salty, cannot glean

With carbonated tears

That on the now new art must lean.