Moon Krom Goat

"Strange Choices #1"

Our choices are so strange today.
I don’t honestly know sometimes.
Do I believe what some would say?
That I must choose security
over freedom? That multiple
options of toothpaste availing
takes precedence over water
that’s free to everyone? Scoundrels
are looking to patent sunlight
and even the air we breathe, as
if they invented oxygen!
Satan-Jehovah works overtime
to insert his archons everywhere
and pollute each mind with ego’s
gossamer rewards. I say no
thank you. Give me liberty
I crave, or the other freedom
That lies in death’s sweeter embrace.

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Strange Choices #2

Our choices are so strange today.
Sometimes I find myself at loss.
These folks whose sole business it seems
to provoke rage, fear, despair
to pack flocks into their churches,
who bleat intolerance at us
because their vinegar language
turns us off to their Saklas-God.
Clearly a form of insanity
holds by the wee-and-curlies these
self-styled Godly ones (O whither
that most unfortunate trademark).
The thing I don't get is how
these corrupted thuglatans go
unquestioned by the erstwhile
guardians, the fourth-estate whores
seem willing to receive Reverend
Almond Tinfoilhutte-Toller
and all Brittany and Tyler
Christofascist-Whites on the air
as the defenders against fact.
"On the left, we have the ocean
and its suspicious supporters
and on the right, the Right Reverend
will assail the seas for their grievous
mischief wetness! Watch the debate
over water's ev'lest wetness
How do we curb the ocean's onslaught
wave after wave, wicked moisture
pounds at the poor beaches! Tonight
at 11, join the Dream Team
Caspar Leche and Blanche Brotchen
take on this most potent issue.
You depend on them. Bet on it."

************

Strange Choices #3

Our choices are so strange today.
Where I wish to go is oddest
I'll admit--I'm looking forward
to seeing the Tower collapse
entirely. O Salamanders
Sylphs, Undines and Gnomes, please unleash
your elemental energies 'gainst
Black Iron Prison enslaving
our hearts, our spirits and our minds!
Cast a thunderbolt at Babel's
ivories and return us all
to our earthsome origins
where we can once again steward
this mystaculous orb and make
it shine with verbundance once more.
Guide my choices toward the simpler
and the greener options. I will
write poems and plays to that end
perhaps showing what's possible
in these improbable and dark times
even as I let myself out to help
you till the soil to grow the crops,
as I exert my back to lift sacks
of grain and vegetable onto carts
to give nourishment to others
as I sustain myself. I long
to cast off my civved persona,
and be in fertile nakedness
with you in your nudity grand
on this wholesome feast of planet!
I'll admit this fondest dream
seems impossible, impractical now.
rising oil and gas prices point
attention to where and how we
grow food we need to feed ourselves.
And thus I act as if the peak
of our technic heyday is past,
and seek now to be kind to you.
Let me be the stranger, dearest
Blanche du Bois's unknown to me now
within earshot of this poem.
I hope you remember kindness
with your simple version thereof
should either of us be in need,
for even that problem upcoming
is overcome when together
we come to meet it in common.

No one's smarter than all of us.