Tuesday, September 5, 2017

Sir Vibe All


Sir Vibe All
 
A jerk and a shrug and a querulous tug on your coat
She grabs you by shoulders and waggles her boulders for votes
You totalled her car and you wandered afar for a quote
but Portuguese froggies don’t sweat for a buck
 
In order to win it you’ve got hang in it for weeks
And give up your meat for a carrot, a beet and some leeks
A portion is fine for the sinewy line that you seek
but Charles and Billy don’t give half a fuck
 
A modern occurrence the daily perturbance of trees
A woodpecker twiddles the blue paradiddles with ease
Coyote he dances to better his chances with fleas
and five lullabies are enough for a fee
 
The coffeehouse cowards and Arkansas plowherds are ready
For cars that are thrifty and four-on-the-shifty and steady
But we’d much rather suck the petroleum muck from its eddies
because billionaires need to live toxic and free
 
Standards and banners with dubious manners are vying
To fill up the oceans with plastic emulsions and dyings
While ICBMs with their nuclear stems are a-flying
Leaving the everyday folk very nervous
 
A chorus of nays and rude ricochets sounds about
It’s easy to see why the grand devotees are in doubt
While the temperatures climb and the Antarctic rimes melt out
All the shorefront cafes will have undersea service
 
Surrender your cards and your Pleistocene shards unto God
And see how the wine and the Byzantine brine go to sod
It’s numbing and wearing this Internet sharing so odd
And ever too often the messenger lies
 
Had a chat with a hawk who gave out a squawk and he flew
To fight off extinction the hardest distinction he knew
But over the eons the serfs and the peons outgrew
And the rest of the flora and fauna just dies
 
Rending asunder dystopian thunder we hide
To tell ourselves stories and bathe in our glorious tide
For breeding we’re best though we litter the nest in our stride
And leave all the waste for our children to mend
 
Our chancy millenia could take a bad end with a boom
Although we can hope that a queen or a pope might presume
To sell us on reasons for quelling these seasons of doom
We grow up this instant or bring on the end
 
I’m off to the beach or some evergreen reach of a trail
To enjoy while I may the glories a daydream entails
And pray that we kindle a little more wind in our sails
I would hate to leave the poor Earth a hollow





Michael J. Vaughn's twentieth novel, Figment, is now available in both digital and paperback forms at Amazon.com.

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