Pandemic Pandemonium Poem

 

Pandemic’s same old, new dawn; bad news stories playback
Trump’s truculence and treason; he bleats / Tweets his attack
I can’t resist online retorts; the tooth-for-tooth type payback.

“That bastard burned down our homeland!”, I shout and cry
In fetal ball I next curl up; bawl my eyeballs bloodshot / dry
By dusk, eyes bleary / head weary; dreamland’s worth a try.

Can I dream up exit plan, to someday soon, flee the coop?
Safely free all huddled masses, from our damned time-loop?
Or, awaken again, right back at my poem’s Line-One stoop?

 

 

Stay Safe at Home! Stay Publicly Masked! Stay Healthy!

 

 

 

 

 

 

2020’s 20/20 Narrative

 

Heed this A.P.B. warning: Freaks have fled their cage!
Both creeps now hog spotlight, upon the world stage,
Here’s where pathogen, deadly, goes on its rampage,
As does its encroaching enabler, whose maw oft farts rage!

Microbe and micro-brain Monarch, neither is willing,
To forswear selfish claims, each is owed the top billing,
Their club of choice is the fear, each is instilling,
Both are foes to humanity, both hellbent on killing!

Their disease, double whammy, oft debilitates,
They are what they are: depraved degenerates!
Grim Reaper germ denies life; populace decimates,
Putz decries freedom; his subpar strife devastates!

Yoo-Hoo 18-plus citizens! You, who are stateside dwellers!
Be you gender-fluid or prototype ladies or fellers,
Our homeland will die, sans enough Trump rebellers,
Let’s cast our absentee ballots, while safe in our cellars!

With sera and meds, still in R & D stage,
To avoid COVID-19, heed this advice, sage!
Wash hands, social distance, mask to face PLEASE engage!
Adults never whine and throw tantrums! So DO act your age!

 

 

 

 

 

 

The Rest of My Life

 

To preserve my R.E.M. world; with imagery rife
I’d have eagerly slept onward; the rest of my life

The dream I awoke from; so stunningly real
Surroundings familiar; I could see, hear, smell, feel

My years younger self leaning; upon my window sill
Upward gaze at the full moon; light tranquil, so still

One early bird’s chirping; awakens another; another
As well as my sister; my father; my mother

Our four legged friend; of shepherd / lab stock
Is also attuned; to our circadian clock

He arises from floor at the foot of my bed
Nudges my elbow; on knees rests his head

The kitchen clatter, commotion provides the next clue
As does heaven sent scent; of the coffee pot’s brew

Then just as mom shouts out; “Our pancakes are ready!”
Reality returns; so unsure, unsteady

All who remain of our family: just sister and brother
Shuffled off mortal coil; went our pet, father, mother

Real world woes; with a vengeance, commence to flood back
Right where they had left off; resume their attack

To preserve my R.E.M. world; with imagery rife
I’d have eagerly slept onward; the rest of my life

 

 

 

 

 

Respelling We?

 

“We the People”, starts the stately preamble
Stated by bygone souls, not prone to ramble
The Constitution, ’twas its framers’ gamble
To strip land free of barbarians’ bramble?

They’d not foreseen despot’s plot; thug who’d scramble
To free folks of freedom, reduce land to shamble
Into each Tweet, bleat and speech, he doth cram bull
“Wee the People”, starts his stupid preamble!

 

 

 

 

 

 

Pandemic’s Panorama (vers libre)

 

Nightmares don’t awaken me. They greet my reluctantly opening
eyes at the dawn of each worthless, godforsaken, pandemic day.
Another groaned, “Oh gawd, not again”, best sums up my mood.

Damn it! Still imprisoned by that insufferable, infantile, narcissistic
ideologue, who walks hand-in-hand with a microbe. They set forth
on a whistle-stop tour thru the diseased nation of their own making.

Chronicling the passage of time are my rapidly growing lawn and
hedge; the clockwork-like blooming of the seasonal perennials: the
computer chronometer; the refuse / recycling trucks’ weekly arrival.

Throwing open the dining room curtains; that “Have a Nice Day”
scene aids and abets that unseen by the naked eye, lurking bio-
hazard. Even a minor miscue could mean it’s curtains! I’m toast!

Next up, the no motivation, no-frills food prep; that same old /
same old fare; all served up, piping hot, upon a table overlooking
the A.M., freeze frame, window to the world, that I no longer know.

From my front porch, I view my hood’s furloughed workers’ parked
grimy cars; windshields plastered by avian, avant-garde artists. The
once unnoticed, whooshing breezes, cast an otherworldly ambience.

Endless hours spent surfing the Net; gaining solace from my blogging
and perusal of the written and split-screen content posted by other
socially isolating souls. Will our noble efforts wind up all for naught?

At times, come the unavoidable, leave my protective bubble, masked,
ventures into town, to post remittances and lay in provisions. I cherish
the “Do you think it’s gonna rain?” chitchat with a grocery store cashier.

Such impromptu confabs inspire a stray tear of joy; ditto that, my home
repairs’ completed Hail Mary Passes; when my hood’s rabbits don’t fear
and flee me; when I pluck a lucky four-leaf clover they hadn’t scarfed.

By dusk, more no-motivation, no-frills food prep; that same old /
same old fare, all served up, piping hot, upon a table overlooking
the P.M. freeze frame, window to the world, that I no longer know.

Evening brings binge re-watching of ancient dramas / sitcoms; narratives
so familiar, verbatim delivery of the protagonists’ lines comes EZ. By the
stroke of 12, it’s one more calendar rectangle to “x” off; time to nod off.

 

 

 

 

 

 

No Relief

 

Without fail, handlers fail, when they try to brief,
The automatic, autocratic commander-in-chief.

He denies science so densely, it defies all belief;
Mere microbe outwits that nitwit! We feel the grief.

He robs us of freedom, joy, dreams; just like a thief,
His clown make-up / hairdo, yield no comic relief.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Pandemic Etiquette (1 Quick Limerick #102)

 

While Herculean, might describe our task,
Corona-V Must be Slain! How you ask?
Let’s scrub hands with persistence!
Shun large crowds! Social distance!
Last but not least: Make Damned Sure To Don Mask!

 

Stay Safe… Stay Home… Stay Healthy…

 

 

 

 

 

 

Just Following Orders? (1 Quick Limerick #101)

 

An anti-American, treasonous cur,
Conspires to conquer protestors, astir,
If Trump’s intrigues, illegit,
Green lit a homeland nuke hit?
Would top brass respond with their “No” or “Yes sir!”?