All writing

to serve the people
every politician's dream
neatly, on a plate

nothing says
I loved you
like yesterday's roses

Author notes: image from dreamstime.com

Confession: I am somewhat of a foodie.
So when I'm served a steak, or rack of lamb,
my gut reaction isn't "goodie, goodie".
Instead I post a pic on Instagram.

It's then I put to use my English Major,
(assisted, as it is, by GPT)
"This hen", I caption, "never met a cager,
and I would wager you can taste the free."

Of late, though, I've been forced to post more veggies,
as veganism has gotten so in vogue.
Competing with young models in their wedgies
I find that one can never be too woke.

My wholesome salads are my alibis.
Now off to Mickey D's. I love the fries.

a peregrine dream
on the surface would seem
to be of a bird in the sky

but shifting to Latin --
to bolster and fatten
the vocab I use to get by

will hint at my travel
on dirt roads and gravel
a voyage not yet at an end

so yes, peregrine
here and there, in between
and that is my story, dear friend

Come, mortal, come and get your ticket
to watch a brawl between two gods.
Though both are equally as wicked
Las Vegas will be giving odds.
Up on the right, he's mastered thunder
and dreams of asteroids to plunder,
and on the left, he knows your pain
and uses it to make a gain.
Will one prevail? Since neither titan
would care to settle for a draw
the match is likely to be raw,
until the loser goes down fighting,
resisting to the bitter end.
Yes, that's the ticket. Tell a friend.

Author notes: https://www.outkick.com/elon-musk-challenges-mark-zuckerberg-to-cage-fight/

"A pair of each, until the ark is full.
But skip the dinos, they are too much bother."
And so he did. The rest of us, to rule,
continued fighting, brother against brother.

The water, though, it kept on rising, rising,
providing, as it did, a kind of thrill.
While Noah searched for peace on the horizon,
we battled for a kingdom on the hill.

At last the deluge stopped, the waves receded.
The earth, though soaked, allowed us on the plains.
We celebrated: see, no ark was needed!
and marveled at the dinosaur remains.

Now, once again, the ocean grows, encroaches.
Perhaps this time we will get on, as roaches.

What does it mean to me, the longest day?
Another minute basking in the sun.
A bit more time to master what to say,
a chance to finish more of what needs done.

Split second, and the hourglass is flipped.
The deities resume their ancient match,
their victories impermanent -- the script
does not allow it, so they start from scratch.

The night absorbs the few remaining embers
proclaiming, as they do, their last hurrahs,
but it is not concerned. No, it remembers
that this is no defeat, no coup de grace.

The summer is succeeded by the fall.
And in the end, it's night that conquers all.

For those of us the Devil gets to troll --
by random chance or evil circumstance --
resisting the temptation to just fall,
the Devil, meanwhile, sparing no expense:

He takes a wife, a child, a house, a job,
as if it is a game, some sort of bet:
"can this guy take it? Oh, look at him sob...
I haven't done my worst. At least not yet."

What evil twist of logic leads to this?
To teaching that acceptance is the key.
"Maintain the faith, and wait for future bliss,
His ways are too mysterious for thee".

Take a deep breath and meditate. Exhale.
At least you're neither Jonah nor the whale.

A sudden start: I'm on a moonlit plain,
up to my waist in gently swaying grass.
The air is warm and wet, it smells like rain.
The sky's up close, a magnifying glass.

A rolling thunder turns into a mare,
dark, living shadow, eyes like orange embers,
her nostrils glow and sparkle as they flare.
I take a step towards her. She remembers

and lets me get up close. That's right, she knows,
we do not need to labor or pretend.
Her hot breath on my face, we're nose to nose.
An enemy so old, she's like a friend.

Well, shall we ride again, just you and I?
The stars wink out and darkness fills the sky.

Implored, and more than once, to show, not tell,
I nonetheless avoid all ASCII art,
preferring both to punctuate and spell,
and pry unruly paragraphs apart.

I struggle, still, with this unbidden rule.
Since pictures may be worth their weight in gold,
the alphabet, once man's most trusted tool --
has fallen out of favor, gotten old.

Is there some tongue in cheek to my response?
Hope I've not bitten more than I can chew,
and this -- though no Petrarchan Renaissance --
is where the couplet bids to say adieu.

Treat "show, don't tell" as something short of scripture,
though everything you write should paint a picture.

I'd rather not, but here it is, the story of my life.
It started, like most stories do, when I first met my wife.
I was quite young in ways of men, I think at most eighteen.
But there we were, out on a date, turns out though, in between,
another date she had before, and one that she had later.
Since we're together to this day, I must have been the greater.

Well, there she was and I'm like wow, not typically poetic.
My jokes are dumb, my tongue is numb, as if on anesthetic.
You want to see a movie, I did manage in the end.
She said ok let's do it, if it's cool I'll bring a friend.
Not sure how good a move it was, I didn't have a prayer.
Turns out the friend -- and, the next date -- was quite a hockey player.

The movie, it was Death Wish Three. I REALLY like the franchise.
And afterwards, a Burger King, a Whopper and some french-fries.
In short, you'd think there was no hope, yes, there was none, indeed.
If you were me, what would you do, and how would you proceed?
That story for another day, I'm hoping you'll stay with me.
But not today, as this here tale, is suitable for Disney.

when the truth sets you free
who is going to pay
for lunch