A war, once dreaded, was now in full swing,
As, reelected, he stood up to swear
To serve for four more years, to do each thing
He could to re-unite those in his care
Among whom he did number rebel foes,
And those in bondage yet, and those who fought,
And those who could no longer, and for those
Who had been left behind by men who'd not
Survived. "With charity for all," he said.
We'll bind the nation's wounds, we will do all
Which may achieve and cherish peace. The head
Which birthed these thoughts was soon, itself, to fall,
But on that day in Washington D.C.,
He re-enforced commitment to stay "We."
Saturday, January 21, 2017
A war, once dreaded, was now in full swing,
Thursday, January 19, 2017
To keep their daughter safe was not enough.
They could defend her while they were alive,
But one life each had they to lose. The stuff
They'd gotten, that would let their darling thrive
E'en after they were gone, so it was said
Would hide her very nature. She'd be fine
And healthy, but forever would seem dead
If only she held still -- though she'd be blind
And deaf whene'er she did so. The exchange
Seemed worth it, for their enemies were strong.
So Icelyn grew up taking it. But, strange,
One day she dosed herself, but got it wrong,
And now lays lifeless? Senseless? Will she stay
Like this forever? No one now can say.
The streetlight flickered once, and then went dark.
The moon was lost behind the thickest clouds
Of winter. Lena's snow boot scuffed a mark
Hacked into curbside ice. The slightest sound
Would carry through this silence. There was not
A breath of wind. She tensed, stopped in her tracks,
And softly cursed. Already she felt hot.
Beneath the earth and surging through its cracks,
It rose, a geothermal force endowed
With vast malevolence was now awake,
And Lena knew it. With a scream so loud
It hurt her own ears, she ran, felt a quake,
And all her body's water turned to steam.
No one was there to hear her final scream.
Well-treated, stalled, and carefully well-bred,
Contented, calm, serene and picturesque,
Pall's herd were of the best stock, never fed
On grain, just grass and clover. From his desk
(Great-grandpa's), Pall ran dairy like a boss.
Then came that dewy morning when the sky
Erupted. Pall recorded not one loss
To meteor impact, at first, but by
Week's end, he noticed something wasn't right.
His girls had grown in all dimensions, and
Their milk glowed golden, like their hides by night,
While each, beneath her cowbell, grew a gland
That let them exhale flames to suit their whim.
His Kaiju Kows were soon the death of him!
Performed a deed for which there could be no
Forgiveness. He had penetrated vast
But poorly guarded systems, there to sow
A soporific spewer deep within
Wind City's only H2O supply!
The population, dangerously thin
From malnutrition (from another sly
And sneaky plot), too swiftly did succumb!
A city fast asleep was open to
Whatever he might do! But then came young
Barista, caffeinated, zooming through
Each household, stirring all to wakefulness
With percolator, drip machine or press!
No sex appeal, no shape, no cool details.
I hate them!" Tammy's grandmother's sad smile
In silence let the girl rage on. "It fails
On ev'ry level!" "Well, what shall you do
To fix things?" "I've been studying design,"
Quoth Tammy. "Y'all are sad. Not one of you
Has seen the opportunity!" "They’re fine,
And functional in zero gravity."
"Oh, there you go again. Who really cares
'Bout that? Most people've never felt it. We
Should make cool clothes that float like us, with flair!"
Months later, the first fashion show in space
Created a newshipboard marketplace!
The pow'rs that ruled the world they'd shared had banned
Procedures that would save her (they had lied
Unto the People, as they long had planned.
The folk belief was that to save a beast
Of this rare kind, a human's life must end).
Now at the long and awkward, final feast,
The people realized no one could mend
The harm done to the world. The unicorns
Kept death of a most awful kind at bay.
Without them, soon the world would come to mourn
The passing, yes, of light itself -- the sun
Did only turn toward Earth to watch their fun!
Friday, January 13, 2017
Afoot upon a brand new continent,
Don Pedro, just sixteen, but prouder than
The peacocks strolling his estate, had spent
Less than a day before he'd found his man.
That man had promised, via grunts and signs
To lead our Pedro to the secret site
Where could be found the metal forming lines
And clustered patterns on his breast plate, bright
And yellow. It took weeks to get there, through
Rank jungles, deadly insects, rivers full
Of tiny, hungry devils, but 'twas true:
His treasure was abundant. Then the wool
Came off his eyes when shipmates saw his haul:
His men had died for pyrite, one and all.
Wednesday, January 11, 2017
The new apprentice had switched 'round the ink
( By accident, he claimed, but who can say?),
And so 'twas with the special stuff ( we think)
That TeeJay wound up tattooing, that day,
Such miracles. The Virgin Mary set
Upon one client's bicep healed all wounds
It touched, while that sly Roma Lilybet
Had done on her left thigh? That left her doomed
To hear the future, in detail. Whene'er
It was uncovered -- and the thing was right,
Predictions always true! Then there's the stare
Of that top-hatted eyeball, which, by night,
Stays wakeful on my shoulder, seeing all.
Which shop does better cover-ups, now, doll?
Miss Maya, how she loved a mystery,
Especially if it chanced to have a ghost.
She kept alert for these, was rarely free
Of thoughts of what intrigued that girl the most.
Then came a night, house-sitting for a friend,
When she got what she'd wished for. It began
When Snowball, a small, yappy dog, did spend
An hour barking. "What's wrong, fuzzy man?"
He whimpered, then, and hid behind a chair.
She searched the house, but didn't find a thing.
Then something grabbed her by her long brown hair.
She screamed, and tried to turn, but couldn't bring
Her eyes in focus. Meanwhile, a new text
Chimed in her phone. "He's loose! I think you're next!"
Tuesday, January 10, 2017
Repeated seven times, had this result:
Each guy had a tornado that "don't stop"
Aswirl upon his forearm. Yes, exult,
Young men, but don't you -- oh, we are too late!
The fist pumps, in a ring of manly glee
Released into the atmosphere a great
And mighty storm, from which we all must flee!
Three cities are in ruins now from its
Unholy rampage. "Do you even lift?"
We hear as it tears through, and never quits.
"You mad?" As though destruction were a gift
We seem not to appreciate. At last
The alcohol is wearing off -- and fast!
Sunday, January 8, 2017
Were trapped and coughing, lost amidst the smoke.
The owners never bothered to abide
By safety codes, and as their workforce choked,
One hero only had a chance to save
These victims, who could rally John and Jane
Q. Citizen to do their duties. Wave
A grateful hand; the need is ever plain.
The Worker of the World, come on the scene,
Inspired all passersby, who rushed to aid
The seamstresses! They formed a vast machine
Blew out the flames, and handily then made
Escape for all into reality,
Then off on all their ways they went, all free.
Subsidence made a sinkhole near the edge
Of this small town, just where folks go to see
Our finest mountain vista. Now, I pledge,
What happened's no one's fault, and it's now free
Of all remains, but I'm afraid it's true:
The site was not updated, not online.
So tourists, on those smoggy days, those who
Had VR sets that always showed a fine,
Clear view, and used them... Yes, they fell
In frightening numbers, down the slope, and yes,
Some died. It took a while for us to tell
Where lay the problem, but I do not guess
You care 'bout that. Best buy my software patch.
I saw the problem, and fixed it from scratch.
Friday, January 6, 2017
Nobody came for Kleo. Camp rolled on
And on, into the autumn! Each full moon,
The tropic campers cowered until dawn
As tough and thuggish troutgirls leaped, the doom
Of millions of mosquitoes. Then by day
The cold and greyish water was all theirs
In which to twirl and dance, in which to play,
Forgetting briefly those with whom they shared
That alpine lake. One morning, though, a maid
Tried jumping high, and hit her pretty head
Against the water's surface! She was laid
Out cold. As others tended where she bled
(Lest pike return!), Kleo looked at what she'd hit,
All white and solid. Now, just what was it?
Thursday, January 5, 2017
So long ago the cockroach looméd large
As bunnies do, and flew, the world below
Was ruled from high above, and those in charge
Did make the skies their kingdom. Dinosaurs
Did stomp the clumsy earth, but e’en they feared
The pterodactyl clans, whose screeching roars
Could deafen prey long ere that prey was speared.
Their nests were high and hidden. Sometimes they
Forgot where all they'd left their eggs to hatch.
Such was the case on that most special day
When Finger Wing broke shell. She had no match
Among her nest mates, flung them to the ground
To watch them splat, then took a look around.
Wednesday, January 4, 2017
Obscuring ev’rything that was in sight
In normal circumstances. Weak or strong,
No one was unaffected on a night
So cold and so immobilizing. Trapped
In houses, stranded on the roads in cars,
All anyone could do was wait, enrapt
And watching whiteness overtake the stars,
The moon, the ground, the world. All disappeared.
The stasis never broke; the Kelvin scale
Alone could read reality. What cleared
It all away at last seemed small and frail
To human senses, but the great old pow’rs
Swept all the shards of Earth away in hours.
Tuesday, January 3, 2017
To take down her most gorgeous Christmas tree,
And so she left it up, but gave her word
That ere the month was over it would be
Back in its box. Weeks passed, and months did, too.
Then one spring night, when she had come home late
From revels in the warmer weather -- true,
I swear it! -- she did trip and seal her fate.
The string of lights glowed red and wrapped around
Her limbs to hold her fast, as ornaments
Flew at her face and shattered! She lay, bound
And lacerated in a most intense
And gory crime scene after weeks had passed.
Was it an accident? Revenge at last?
Monday, January 2, 2017
Of ice and bitter cold and loneliness,
Would seem to most of us, indeed, to be
A perfect place to get away from stress.
So thought the Yeti, always on the run
From mountaineering paparazzi types.
By unknown means he made it to the one
True hiding spot, he thought, but here the hype
Turned out to be just that; the Pole was packed
With fire-breathing giant penguins, who
Attacked en masse. Just one of them he whacked
Such unexpected glories life can bring!
The Kaiju Penguins have a Yeti King.
Sunday, January 1, 2017
He'd been mistaken, just like always, for
His Doppelganger, handsome Beyond Ken,
Whose wife was rich, bought houses by the score,
And always picked the winning stocks. Once she
Did notice the misplaced and misspelled note
Demanding ransom, she told Ken to be
A doll, and call up Handy Miss. “They wrote
In crayon this time, I see. Oh please, find that man
Before they hurt him.” Handy Miss agreed.
Her latest gadget, planted, per her plan
On Jim last time, broadcast the foolish deed
O’er all Bluetooth devices within range.
Jim Dandy wasn't captive long. How strange!