The morning Light

 

First morning sunlight, always that light,

The first, both of this day and of each day before,

Though pouring now through 8 foot sashes,

Penetrating closed old lids and thin, short lashes,

It is the same, the one electron giving sight,

As slanted once through smaller panes

Held between well sculpted mullion stones

The one electron lighting up the view,

It lit up childhood in its fresher way,

Illuminating empty air and muddy ground,

Yet never old, unknowable and never new.

Bathed in its calm strength we are secure,

Feeling warming physics in our bones,

Knowing all we loved and lost is evermore,

That time is just perception or a sense,

Dividing up the weight of the immense,

Distributing the force of the profound.

Geezers of Slime

 Someone on X had written geezers of slime instead of geysers.

Even such is slime, it forms a crust

About our youth, our joys, our all we have,

Because it’s damp and clings, attracting dust

Hardening as we head towards the grave,

With growing age it forms a carapace,

Protecting our self worth from our disgrace,

Until, at last, at death it seems we  must

Jet wash our souls or die in self disgust. 

Cannibalism for the Cannibals, Liberalism for the Liberals

You can’t tell me what I may eat.

Don’t attempt to lay down the law.

It’s my culture to dine on human meat.

What is freedom for,

If not to allow the oppressed and poor

To live as they choose? What conceit.

But surely your ways are worth dying for?

You can’t tell me what I may eat,

I wish to roast liberal pig, it’s tender, sweet, 

I’m surprised you’ve not tasted it before,

Given your penchant for novelty, you’d find it a treat.

Don’t attempt to lay down the law,

Just because it’s your flesh, my maw,

I have an ancient family receipt,

I was going to cook the girl next door,

It’s my culture to dine on human meat,

But liberals give of themselves whole, complete,

Poached kid sticks in the craw,

Liberal slips down freely, leaving me replete.

What is freedom for? 

I prefer brutality, which I keep in store,

With onions, spices, stock which I’ll reheat. 

Diversity is strength, mine. No time to jaw,

I know you approve from all that you Tweet.

You can’t tell me.