20201231.0430

The calendar will soon reset,
But we, ourselves, remain beset;
We have a fight awaiting yet.
The foe still lingers in the land,
Crowned and speaking its demand;
Too few against it seek to stand.
Still the Stupid God remains
To spread about unthinking pains,
Provoke Jeremiah's refrains,

As it its grip too strong maintains.

20201230.0430

This year is soon to go away,
To flee after another day,
But its flaws are here to stay,
Even when we are not.
What will emerge may well be worse
Than all the things that we rehearse
And proclaim twenty-twenty's curse,
It must not be forgot.
But we can look for better days
And a year that fear allays
As well as the strange malaise
That many will have caught.
Although it has been quite a year,
In the main, we are still here
And we are like to persevere,
As it well might be thought.

20201229.0430

The album reaches its final track
And as the final strains are sounding
Moving I6/4 to V
Will it be vi or I that follows
Before the disc is ejected or the thumb-drive pulled?

20201228.0430

The work goes on, of course,
Until it kills the horse,
But is it the saddle or the yoke that does it in?

20201227.0430

I have often heard it said
That they would do it for free
If they really loved it
Yet I see few who say such things
Turn down the paychecks they get
And not only from me
I guess they don't love it
Because I have to think
They speak in good faith
Believe what they say
Right?

20201226.0430

Banked coals smolder
Waiting for a breath upon them
And a bit of kindling
But the fire that burned them
Hot and bright
Has taken all the tinder near to hand
And no other shipment is scheduled
Nor yet is a hand ready to the axe
Arm unfit for such labor
Or any, as the claim has oft been made

20201225.0430

Now, perhaps, they are at rest
Who have these past weeks done their best
To ensure that wants are addressed
Despite how they are sorely pressed
And in that, we have failed a test
Done less smartly than we're dressed
As we make merry Christmas fest
At vendors' always-voiced request

20201224.0430

My daughter does delight
In the promise of this night
When many post a light
And look for gifts to come
While I may not believe
And I scruple to deceive
I'll not make her wonder leave
That time soon will come

20201223.0430

There was a time
When even fuller winter chills
Such as rarely happen here
And not for quite a while
Did not affect me
And I stood against Boreas with a smile
But now I do not do so well
The fire dwindling within me
And my insulation less than it has been

20201222.0430

The well may not have drilled in deep
But its pump is ready to the hand
And seldom has it failed to give forth its fluid
When it has been worked upon
Though the flavor may not be to every taste

20201221.0430

Now more space opens for a hanging thing
Than daily use has long been wont to bring
For it, though loss of space will make them sing
Who feel their dangling suddenly curtailed.
(Baritone efforts have thus often failed
As stricken faces suddenly thus paled.)
That which is often girded tight hangs free,
Though still full well ensconced within the lee
Of blowing winds that hidden regions see
But seldom, as if an unscheduled prayer
If offered at the altar hidden there
By layered cloth, pulled up and out with care.
Ah! To have a penitent on knees
Who that within the open space would seize!

20201220.0430

Once again in my accustomed place
I sit with sunshine falling in my face,
For but a moment paused amid the race
The rats still run while yet the plague does spread,
Undriven by the flea that had once led
The valedictor to his dear one's bed
When once she two bloods joined as one did spill.
For now, at least, I have not fallen ill,
The lottery whose tickets pay for thrill
Of going out, unmasking, thus to win
A prize that seems to give itself again
To all it sees. It is accounted sin
For us to spread ourselves without concern
Even when we do not, fevered, burn.

20201219.0430

The light is fading
Not for me as for Milton
Because I expect it will return
As his never did
Yet still I lament how mine was spent
For while I could not see anything else when I looked
I have chosen poorly in buying what I did
The exchange made for the gleaming coin
That was mine to spend today

20201218.0430

I have passed this way before
Many times across many years
And the scenery is more different now
Than ever it was before
Or I am
And I do not know which will make the
Elder I am becoming complain more

20201217.0430

What endures
What decays
In both of these
I am amazed

20201216.0430

Creeping far more slowly down the road than might be thought
Yellow inchworms loud within
Carrying in them seeds soon to sprout and
Grow into a harvest uncertain
Except
That it will be abundant

20201215.0430

Happy birthday to you, Brother, dear,
And know that we are glad that you are here
With nimble fingers and an open ear--
If also with an open mouth! We know,
Of course, that you still sweetly sometimes blow
Your horn, and skill upon the keyboards show,
For which no few do love you yet, and we
Who've known you longest still feel our own glee
As you present those skills for all to see
And hear. But we do also know there's more
Than music's play about you yet in store,
And since we do that absence much abhor,
We're glad to've had you 'round another year
And hope for others yet; thus, you, we cheer!

20201214.0430

Sitting among a field
Blooms of youth in full color
Brilliant blue and mellow goldenrod
The sunset sky looking on
Hearing songs remembered from days before
And others new to older ears
A deep breath calms
Refreshes
And once more 'round doesn't seem so bad

20201213.0430

You may have sat at the table longer
But the chef has grown more daring and
More skilled as the meal has continued
And I have feasted more fully and on better foods
Whose gut do you think I will trust?

20201212.0430

I have not had to drink today
And yet I feel a drunk
After the fun has passed
And the draft likely poured out again
Hopefully after the tap was cleared
And into the ceramic made to that purpose
And I lament that the better part
Was once again denied me

20201211.0430

Howling wolves and screaming eagles
Roaring lions and snarling bears
Grunting hogs and farting deer
And many do no better with words
Or worse

As a note, this is post #2800 to this webspace.

20201210.0430

The voices ring across the concrete slabs
Laughing together, which would be good
Save for the words of hate
Harsh discordant brass against sweet reeds
And I wonder if I ought to be their drummer

20201209.0430

I took the day
I often do
But I could not
Go with you
And so I did not
Carry through
Again, and so
Again I rue
The day I took
And away threw

20201208.0430

There is no pill that Morpheus provides
To take me into better rest or
To let me wake fully
I lumber thus
Far from abed
With eyes sagging shut that
Never fully opened

20201207.0430

The hinges creak
No oil to ease them
And no way to replace them
Matching the old hardware costing
More than a wallet will hold

20201206.0430

Once again
They take away the new bouquets
Each time a new arrangement of bright young blooms
But I only need the one blossom
Growing more vibrant as the days pass
Roots still deepening and no dead leaves yet choking the stem

20201205.0430

The floor needs sweeping every day
To clear the dust and dirt away;
The hand must ever push the broom,
Though weary, if ever the room
Will be found fit to dwell therein.
In this, my sweeping, I begin.

20201204.0430

The wind may stir the waves
But the sea remains in place
Letting the disturbances pass
Soon forgotten
I
However
Am landlocked

20201203.0430

Being taffy might be nice
Pulled but on one hook
Put back again after
And if cut into pieces
Welcome in each
For its sweetness

20201202.0430

I have attempted to water it
Sought to feed it
And, yes, fertilized it, too
But its roots never did go deep enough
Even if its green offshoot is growing well
And its own green is sickly enough
The color of a monster's eyes

20201201.0430

Sounding like a sailors' chorus
But neither agreement nor acknowledgement
Instead a self-assertion
Markedly different if sounding the same
And sounding depths the others don't
Perhaps no return from thence should be