Twenty First Century Poems - Poems about Twenty First Century

How one twenty first century married mortal male (me - Matthew Scott Harris)... found himself bewitched about Circe, particularly after reading book title by the same name. An enchantress and a minor goddess in ancient Greek mythology and religion depicted as living on the island of Aeaea (pronounced "ee-EE-uh"), the daughter of the sun god Helios and the Oceanid nymph Perse Circe renowned for...

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Is this one of the sins of the twenty-first century, increased tenfold by social media affecting relationships? Have you been uncouth or met one of the uncouth? (Adjective: lacking in good manners, refinement, or grace.) : Infidelity Well, I guess I'm uncouth I lied And didn't tell them The truth (C) Copyright John Duffy...

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Twenty first century civilization gone?... I askew. Ah... what luxury to wax poetic as freedom to trumpet thoughts, ideas, emotions, et cetera will wane, especially if president number forty five courtesy wealth and/or stealth dons the mantle as de facto fractious tyrant of these United States come November 5th, 2024 methinks perchance mankind always vain n'er did appertain moral hike polar opposite from...

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Ill suited for madcap twenty first century world One garden variety generic male - the very writer of these words feels akin to an anachronism, whereby his being alive at this juncture within the space/ time continuum (July 29th, 2022 – an ordinary day) finds me mismatched with the fast paced civilization – ink comp passing the greater part of webbed wide world,...

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Man-Machine Isn’t it the same thing? ...

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Aghast at explosive industrialization/ urbanization once sacred wild woodland whittled away overlain bumper crops comprising trappings green lighted supposedly signaling progress unwittingly overrides avast enclave (teeming with diverse flora and fauna passively cleared, dominated, expropriated by dictate of commercialization, exploitation, fabrication fueling amalgamation, fabrication, lubrication oiling cogs and wheels sustaining, murdering guaranteeing production trumpeted at expense native flora and fauna acquisition, cooptation, extermination, gratification decreed domination *****sapiens usurped law...

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On the twentieth floor of a high rise flat, A new born baby cries by his mother’s side Her name was Marie with no where to bide, No father came to chase the rats. The child lay in an old pram with no wheels, No warm cot as the hospital was full. On this cold winter night stars shone down, Bringing no...

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Stock-still statues Bucolic totem-poles Munching fly-swatters Lazily grazing ... Invisible to driverless cars...

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Twenty First Century Civilization Gone Askew...? Methinks perchance man kind always vain n'er did appertain moral hike polar opposite from human being: uncivil, unethical, unsocial, et cetera minimally app proxy mating, neither didst faithfully abide as citizen Kane externally -...

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THE GOLD RUSH IS COMING. ARE YOU ABOARD THE TRAIN? IF YOU ARE THE LAST MY FRIEND, YOU WILL FEEL THE PAIN. THE GOLD RUSH IS COMING. IT WILL BE HERE SOON. I DON'T WANT TO HAVE TO SEE YOU WORK FROM NOON TILL NOON. ARE YOU GOING TO SELL SUPPLIES? ARE YOU GOING TO PAN? THE GOLD RUSH WILL TAKE IT'S TOLL, ON THOSE...

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Fear recalled; the taste of sweat in retreat, when one can never seem to run far enough or fast enough. Remembering the Christian children’s chants of devil worshiper, atheist; the taunting hell they saw for those not blessed to be themselves. The jeer of the crowd for those apart, the mob mentality of the Christian heart, the damn you...

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The cantankerous old Mr. Muffet spoke nonsense and lies from his tuffet. When you think that I may wax apophatic to say I would never insult him, go stuff it! ~...

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Shuffling this scope of limited perceptions; their visions.. Crossing her celestial, scintilating skies; deep inside tubular Chimes lifting amid the breeze to these, tranquil orisons ? Subliminally Marked emotions rising in state; bay windows dismissing chains; silvertone's rustic tides Receding, from time's shores before my eyes; portent clarities bearing a Spirits wings To fly beyound their breakwater...

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If there were a tomb to hold my thoughts alone where only those who seek it, meditate, guffaws would echo on the heavenly green; ideas will not live beyond their youth unless they catch the glint of steel beneath the torch of battle. So let now be the arena for my wars, my intellect, my flooding heart to charge at enemies who...

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~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Shuffling this scope of limited perceptions their visions Crossing the celestials scintilating skies; deep inside tubular Chimes lifting in the breeze to these tranquil orisons Subliminally marked emotions rising in state; bay windows dismissing chains.... Silvertones rustic tides, receding from the shores before my eyes Portent clarities bearing a Spirits wings to fly ~ Beyond the breakwater whirlpools vortex designs!? Breathtaking inversions...

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