TV

The world in a 10x10 square

controlled easily

by anyone who’d choose to

from a wrestling match

in Tokyo, Japan,

sumo wrestlers

attired in thin, multicolored diapers

slick with the gleam of sweat,

attacking each other

with a force not for the faint-hearted

to the news in NYC,

cheerful men and women

who talk so easily

about a dreadful bombing

it could be the evening’s meal,

faces stretched

into interminable happiness –

not friendly, though, but almost

more threatening than a loaded gun.

the control is in your hands.

what will you watch?

Lunch Period

hunger storms ‘cross the pavement

the front runners, enthused

with the prospect of victory,

work, keeping up the pace,

as the rest,

need made only worse from fear,

nip at the heels of their competitors

all, a pack of snarling wolves,

burst to the rows of waiting food

sporting, rather than fur,

backpacks and binders

the noontime race

has never been closer

just don’t slip – whatever you do –

behind anyone else

or it’s all over.

Flower Life

delicate, silky petals bloom

graceful in their opening

spring has sprung!

and there they are for the world to see

pushing, ever pushing their way

through the suffocating bud

time goes by so very slowly…

beauty spreads!

leaves are shed behind as,

effervescent in their glory,

petals, pink and fluffy

as circus cotton candy,

are born at last

only to be plucked at their prime

and put into glass prisons

for all to admire…

but never fear!

for withered blooms will fall

bury themselves in soil

and voila!

the circle of life

has begun again.