COLD, HARD FACT: EVIL IS 'AS EVIL DOES'

 

Oh, "CAGEY" is not

Super Smart;

It's more "reptilian brain".

Folks like these

Do as they please

It's all for selfish gain!

Sociopathy is the key

To scheme and bribe and con.

Yet, why do scores

Refuse to see

The wickedness of Don?

Is it  that they're just gullible,

Or yearn to be beguiled?

 Perhaps they never quite evolved:

 Their brain remains 'a child'...

poem by L.P.-G.

A SEASONAL INTERREGNUM

                                                                      

Eggnog replaces cider-spice, and

Autumn leaves by mistletoe...

Turkey dinners are exchanged

For evergreens and powdered snow...

Scarlet overcomes orange-tones;

Hay-bales yield to Christmas trees.

No more pumpkin pie right now,

But sugar-plums on a frosty breeze!

A snowman beckons

Toward the stars;

With darkest coal-black eyes...

Yet, it's too early

He is told , for

Reindeer in the skies !!

Autumn Stands Brooding

It rose east, on high, Autumn's

Dark, slattern sky;

       So brooding; so sullen and gray.        

                         

                                White 'sheep-clouds' lay withered,

Their pillows gone flat ;

Now outlines looked

   Ragged and frayed...    

These are the skies

That foretell a grim landscape:

Damp pastures and bare-naked trees...

For months we'll light candles,

Tend fires, 'make merry'

As late-fall bends

Sun... to its knees.

poem by L.P.-G. / 11-2023

THREE WITCHES ARE BETTER THAN ONE !

                                                                           

       

Fire burn and cauldron bubble !!!

November post-script: When King James VI came down to London from Scotland, Shakespeare wrote Macbeth. What's more, he put lots of witches in it; supposedly, just for him !!!

IN LIGHT OF THE PRESENT MID-EAST CHAOS and TURMOIL,

               I'd anticipate a fifth tragic poem; i.e., were Primo Levi still alive...

                                                     

                    In the Beginning:  a poem by Primo Levi

Fellow men, for whom a year is long,

A century a venerable goal,

Exhausted earning your bread,

Worn out, enraged, deluded, sick, and lost;

Hear, and be consoled and mocked:
Twenty billion years ago,
Splendid, moving through both space and time,
There was a globe of flame, alone, eternal,
Our common father and our executioner,
And it exploded, and all change began...

  Even now, the faint echo from this one

'Catastrophe-reversal'

Resounds from the far ends of the universe.

Everything was born from that one spasm:

The same abyss that embraces us and taunts us,
The same time that gives us life and ruins us,
Everything each of us has thought,
The eyes of every woman we have loved,
Suns by the thousand, too,
And this hand that writes...