Poetry for Strangers: Community

radio lobo

the arena ached with quiet even stillness could not scoff
the communities of bellydancers and naked skydivers squared off

the fix is in the stockjobber whispered to the fishermen
a gleaming bass swirled through the eddy with a cheshire grin

the chinese stuntmen staged the blistering choreography
of the mild mannered heros astrophotography

the doctor on the motorcycle raced to the patients aid
she believed she was in an ancient roman colonnade

the sawed off assistant was prone to apoplectic rages
the magician with gold dust on her gloves shut the dove cages

at muscle beach the sailors taught the flabby daytrippers how to lift
our ambitions to self-betterment are a spiritual grift

at pike place brass crabs danced on the scales clackity clatter
filets of swai were fanned on the iced down platter

meditation shouldnt be about minding the present moment
but about imagination and visions of grand foment

the conspiracy theorists were right despite their senescence
the pandas were smuggled into the city by the freemasons

the gonifs running the city council wore blue shamrocks
and tam o shanter caps over their dreadlocks

the censer chain got tangled in the prelates zipper
ecclesiastical stoles were gobbled by the wood chipper

the knight drank thirstily from his copper cup
the precipice aint near its behind us soaring up

For more, visit Poetry for Strangers: Community.


Poetry for Strangers: Marshmallow

the command

the king issued his edict commanding the subjects to be good
the courtiers called it wise nodding clucking understood

but what is good the farmers ask their crops dwindling
is it survival they plead gaunt as spindling

good is commerce says the drug store pharmacist
commerce is freedom and economic armistice

the shopkeeper packing marshmallows on the shelf agrees
these marshmallows are good here have some of these

good is the nimble forefinger caressing a piano key
chopin in the afternoon accompanying tea

good is kindness and brassy generosity says the reverend
whose own faith tumbles inwardly end over end

good is victory but better is the war conceded
the meditations of the retired general go unheeded

diggers uncovered the teeth and bones in the dust
the archaeologist says good is history’s trust

well I wish I had defined my terms shrugged the king
the queen laughed and praised his legal daring

the plague is upon us the hospital halls are jammed
the worst contagion is the ignorant damned

a country road undimmed the treeline ragged
the crow slips in and out of time like a whisper jagged

if I am my brothers keeper I take his acidic sorrows
a rick of unlikely dreams and idyllic tomorrows

For more, visit Poetry for Strangers: Marshmallow