The Wages of Pascal
My mind’s abind in double and thriple blinds
Scarsely can I see what’s right in front of me
I stumble and stare at things no longer there
My head’s in the hopper, unscramblable by doppler
The planet is warming but not to me
I did it and do it and take no responsibility
Art’s a drag, thinking a bore
I pretend to doodle but to tell the truth I’m sore
No doubt these rhymes annoy you
But, face it, it’s because they suit you to a tee
What happened to disjunction, parasols, and ennui?
Dim Lands of Peace
That’s a killer ape, just don’t
expect me to marinate it. Sure
sure, I get it, if it’s not my
problem, pass the stickly
bougainvilleas and keep on
trusting. Only I seem to
miss every even beat in a
road. Might as well say
hazelnut grounds of unperturbed
timeliness. I hit the brakes
too late, story of my inky
Reality don’t lie. For real,
The truth is what’s foundering there.
Truth is found in the morning’s light
That every noon puts out of sight.
Liars move on, the lie remains:
Lies that truth enshrines and engrains.