No Colder Wind …

A wind out of the northwest blew in on slickened skids

Riding on it, like discarded wrapper, were sorrows

Not the sorrows of the day but the pain of kids

Th kids who live in a world torn...by credo

A troll is certainly a troll, but e don’t know

Won’t EVER know cuz it’s the duty o th pyre

Set the control just before the concrete dries, Joe,

Then stand a monument to the brass tacks of ire

Call it compassion for the status quo, patriotic zeal

Ball it up in your kinder,  gentler,  gaveling pudgy fist

Transcend all that is broken into shards by man’s ordeal

By suffering those who see the rings within rings in the midst

Poke, poke, and poke, with bile on-purpose, most of the humor long lost

From the mock-squeaky-clean tones of a mid-rangy PA short on amps

The trial-&-error reflections of the goes-around-comes-around costs

Blank off thick skulls as if to say, “corral them into mis-education camps!”

Now I’ve seen every kind of sarcasm, every kind of very funny tort & retort

Come out of the minds & fingertips of  every sort of creative whole & half-wit

Brought into bearing upon sunnier shores than this, & thank the ebb & flow for it

‘Cause the rancor, that somehow MUST exist in all forums, has…been taking its toll

In this laid-to-waste land we’ve called paradise-lost,  what wrong-done loss is worth

a laugh?  A bogus morass?  What inconvenient truth is worth overlooking anyway, if it’ll

mean the right were right & the left were southpawed and blank-a-dee-blank?  What

well-formed thought is due for containment today?  What well-suited, well-heeled

mook, with control over contract negotiations, holds the talking-point libretto in

maimed scriptures this week, Jeeves?  Is it you, staid P. D. Status Q., the mock

torment-to-the-trying in this world-business climate,  who is going to opt for a

slightly more meager salary so that the last shall not be near as left-out & the

war torn shall know some tangent of relief from this earth-raping disease we

like to call “Get Up & Get Some!” from sea to quandaried sea?  Can you look

them in the eye, if you ever get a chance to know how to try to know them real,

(perceptive as you claim you must be) until th ardent ways & means of your fancy

cut bean counters  (beside endlessly unfulfilling pie alamode dreams)  fight to never

fill the trough at both ends…as it feeds the Gods that Homer feared and pasteurized?

Go ahead and name one truly remarkable, across-the-board, …wholly humanitarian

deliberation,  with regards to the planet that sustains us,  and I’ll rally & cast my vote

But no. Are we not deep in the heart of the gi-me-gi-me-I-don’t-care-bout-what’s-fair

  era? …Not only getting worse by the season but by the treasons kept close to the vest?

For no well-equipped-to-enrich or benign reason, our grandiosest tomatoes-on-vine run

for the money  (‘cause there’s where the money’s goin)  line of prosperity in moot  ironic

tones that could only recoil off a badly played cello & bassoon duet from the orchestra pit

beneath the tired cast of Joseph & the Amazing Technicolor Dreamcoat.   Are so!  Setting

the peachy-keen & “mighty gold” standard market aim:   Golden parachutes for mine & I

Oh do decorate m shorelines with boogieboards n spring-again umbrellas dotting the sand