I see the signs of weariness. Although
the counties multiplied to 30 feet
the distance to a stranger on the street,
there’s evidence more folks are on the go
again, more traffic and it isn’t slow,
less masks on the pedestrians I meet.
I see the signs.
We thought we were awaiting a plateau,
but wasted time and smarts in a complete
fiasco of non-governance by tweet.
Now we emerge to surge or we-don’t-know.
I see the signs.
We’re sick of staying in to not get sick.
We have acute fatigue about the news
that we can be assured will pluck and pick
the slant they think the audience will choose.
Who listened weeks ago may not excuse
predictors mumbling till their errors slide.
We’re ignorant but won’t ignore the clues
experience displays. We’re best outside.
It’s logical, but when will facts emerge?
I mask outside and never ride a bus.
It’s June – we thought the viral load would surge
two weeks ago at least, but most of us
seem Covid-free. Can you and I discuss
the fact that all we can be sure about
is data dearth and circulating doubt?
Perhaps it’s time to change the attitudes.
Let’s socialize but take the party out
of doors, and minimize the comfort foods.
The custom of a work week five days long
has dominated culture all my span,
and Wednesday marks the middle as we throng
to cross the hump to Saturday, and plan
to shop or hop to leisure if we can,
to rest at home with family, or mix
with friends, to clean or weed or try to fix
that broken object we will not replace.
Now Wednesday like a middle finger sticks
a token of entrapment in my face.
I felt a little lightness yesterday,
and thought in this environment of plague
and wide unrest, to hide it or I’d pay
a price in lurking guilt and murky shame.
For most the day no trouble seemed to weigh
on me – I felt content and calm as ponds.
I should have just enjoyed, I have to say,
for morning found me antsy with a vague
disquiet, desperation, and dismay.
The country’s not on fire and I don’t play violin,
and certainly I’ve never been in charge.
But health and trade are dire and catastrophe might win,
for autocratic attitude looms large.
I wish that there was more I could contribute than a poem,
but I got old while waiting for this time,
and though I can’t be sure it’s best to hunker in my home,
as long as I’m confined, I’ll donate rhyme.
I don’t expect to earn a dime composing poetry,
but I collect a living here and there.
Alone each day I turn away from shopping currently,
and thereby have some dollars I can spare.
The leader of the Party is an ass;
they don’t come any worse than DJT.
Conservatives should quit the GOP.
There’s nothing Grand (or Gallant) in the class
that lies and foments gross conspiracy.
The leader of the Party is an ass;
they don’t come any worse than DJT.
His alchemy converts our gold to brass,
and silver turns to toxic mercury.
We’re almost swamped in his dishonesty.
The leader of the Party is an ass.
They don’t come any worse than DJT.
Conservatives should quit the GOP.
I used to trust the scientists and press
to separate the careful from the guess.
I saw the politicians who abuse
the truth, but thought the scholars would address
the subjects with strict discipline, and choose
the rigors of the lab and peer reviews.
But now I know that bias was naive,
for capital concerns corrupt the news,
and scientific sycophants believe
that funding means the published must deceive.
Too many trade good work for cash and fame –
they flock and grab and gossip, and then leave.
I think a lab mistake may be to blame,
and metabolic illness must inflame
the tragic situation we endure.
I’m salting every bureaucratic claim.
A safe effective shot? I’m not so sure.
The process of prevention is obscure.
The quoted seem corrupt or immature.
Republicans are hiding in manure.
Of course I don’t want anybody scared.
My rhymes are never meant to channel grief.
But if you have an urge to feel prepared,
then watch for facts instead of hot belief.
It may be vain to vest in a vaccine
the means to stop this virus in its tracks.
Attacks on respiration tend to mean
there won’t be shot protection: look at facts.
Somebody put a “warp” in front of “speed,”
and overlooked the meaning of the word,
for even if each citizen agreed
in ways, to rush the testing is absurd.
They told us statins didn’t carry risk!
They demonized cholesterol and salt.
Avoiding fat, our food got sugar-kissed,
and though our nation’s sick, we’ve yet to halt.
Perhaps the virus wins this dire race.
Our best protection’s good immune response.
It cannot hurt to give each other space,
but let’s give natural health a renaissance.
We’re not lost yet. The wisest will resort
to foods and use that give our cells support.
I understand your feelings have been hurt,
but I don’t think there’s anyone to blame.
I see you tremble and I hear you blurt
of disrespect. I think another name
pertains, for carelessness is not the same –
in “disrespect” there has to be intent
to wound. But maybe “disrespect” became
a different word than what my parents meant.
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