Short Crueler Poems

Monday night in my blue flesh
Shouldn’t complain it’s cold
Minnesota will be much crueler
and much warmer too
cozied up with the grandson crew
and their cockapoo

11/14/2022...

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While playing the card game “Euchre”
The phrase you've been “Trumped” causes furor
Yanks have been thumped
Or perhaps “Trumped”
It's not just a card game, it's much crueler...

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We're in a cold, lonely paradise called love
Each fight hits harder
Each cold word crueler
But each kiss warmer
And each embrace tighter
Love can be bitter
But it can also be all that is good!...

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Nazi crematoria
  Murderous euphoria
Millions murdered and martyred
  Human lives bargained and bartered

A tsunami's devastation
  The tears of a nation
Gentle Nature's hand crueler
  Than the most dastardly ruler

To God do we turn in sorrow
   Ineffable, His answer -- Tomorrow...

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I haven’t anything to say,
Or any tale to tell,
Admitting that I might as well
Refuse to write today.

There isn’t any crueler crime
Or evil any worse
Than writing nothing in a verse,
And setting it to rhyme.

But other poets I have read
Have often written to
Impress themselves, or else a few
Professor-friends instead....

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Words have shaped me like a sculpture,
Like liquid poured into a mold,
Words have feasted on my soul crueler than a vulture,
Tearing me apart, splitting me open, leaving me exposed,
Words more painful than a pus-filled ulcer,
Left me trembling, huddled in a corner with my eyes closed.
Words have killed me, I was overexposed,
My mind slowly rotting, decomposed....

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We built this house
With bricks and blood
We knew the cost
And we died in the dark
So you could live
In the light
In the hardest moments
Tears fell from our eyes
Innocence ripped from us
The world is cruel
So we were taught
To be crueler
To build a future
A better future
For you
For me
For us
We built this house
With bricks
And blood


...

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fork has many interpretations

connotations

as do
eviscerate
slaughter
butchery
all can mean less than they
appear to be

context is important

but War

War is the foulest of foul words
a word that only the dead hear correctly

the living
choose from a lexicon of oaths
they may banter
or throw stones

but War

War kills every word
in the dictionary

even to the last
blood-soaked letter


...

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Three Roses
Three roses  all in array
Let me still  capture while I may
And try to remember another time
When you were young
and we were strong
The roles we felt we had to play
To help you blossom and not sway
From the crueler winds that might bend
you in a different way
But you prevailed against the gales
To be where you are today
You keep on sprouting as we grow old
Now you are strong because of love
And now three roses have their buds

2001-2005-2008...

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within my solace the beating drums
of human war is sacrificed and then 
there is no more 'human-war.'  Only
the lingering moaning cries of all
these wounded souls who fought for
naught but still won their remaining
lives...

and feelings are the greatest
casualty but the blood pours out
in vast spreads of crimson roses
that fill the despaired fields
of Spirits who weep too.

Death is cruel but sometimes
Life the crueler!

:: 03-29-2017 ::...

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