The Rip Post                                                                                              



So It Seems
"Humanity" is a
vestigial condition
like a useless tail.

Kindness and
empathy have
no place in
this modern world.
There's no
money in it.
Or so it seems.

The dark days
upon us again.
Worst among us
will be first to
take and break
sacred bonds
long endured
through bleak
and benighted,
forlorn and
blighted.

Prove me wrong
ancient carolers
fish in a barrellers
Easy marks,
extinguished sparks

Dark of night
dead of winter
short of sight.
Or so it seems.

A shred, a shard
greeting card
from trash heap
gnashing and weep
price paid too steep
No mercy, no relief

Shifting gears
merciless fears
grimaces, sneers
grotesquerie
chicanery, sabot
in machinery.

Big money in war
bananas to Boer
Sodom to Saddam
Osama to Iran, beast
slouches again, acrid
tears tear at our hearts.

We come up empty
when chips are down,
no genius, not even a clown
Ramifications abound
Celestial clocks cast down
Give lie to our pretensions
Splitting time, dimensions
Transcending space,
no more amazing grace.
So out of place.

Ending the race
with fizzle, not sizzle
words cascade, frozen,
no reason, scant rhyme
Cast out, cast doubt
Call the question, cut off
debate, jury's still out,
hour grows late.

Mid-winter's tale,
brave voyager set
sail to land of fable
and lament, they
invest but cannot
pay the rent.

The looters'
horns are tooting
Crime of the century
Infamy abounds.
Tale continues
Ending unknown.
Teller's forgotten
No moral is shown

Not is all what
is to be seen,
so we are told,
as days grow
short, nights
grow cold.

Rickety vehicle
chugs far off
course, flogging
dead horse.

Menu is served
skip last course
Words surge,
a brackish tide
Verses on the
hackish side.

Stop the piano,
hail a cab.
False starts
take a stab
false hearts
make a grab

Tick the tock
Pick a stock
Climb a rope
Abandon
All hope.

Cast your vote
Cast your fate
Cast the die
Never tell a lie

Monkey
grinders
nothing
more
perpetual
calliopes
whirl amid
pinwheeling
galaxies
beyond
all scope.
Last call,
curtain's
fall or so
it seems.
Sweet
dreams.

-- Jack Oakes
12/22/08

 

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