ManicDDaily

Pants On Fire (As In Liar Liar)

Congress (Seemingly Sold, Seemingly Byzantine)

It was ever a country of old men.
Some young have come of late who are even more
stale, though they proclaimate with a vigor
not often seen in rigor mortis.  What then
was wrong, what they know to have been wrong,
they sing odes too, anthems with bombs bursting–
as if bombs were bubbles like those pursing
stuffs so closely held–their real estate long

shots, their inside bets in stocks, that donor
whose requests made so much sense (and dollars)–
Such faux outrage, such gyréd hollers–
the high dudgeon they rub like a boner–
No compromise to help the poor–for,
a human right is but a paltry thing
compared with that that goes ka-ching–  Ka-ching
to keep a pol awake–on the House floor.

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Here’s a poem of sorts (yes, a draft, in that it’s just this minute taken shape) for Kerry O’Connor’s wonderful challenge on With Real Toads to use octaves–like Yeats.  I would like to try for a more lyrical poem, but here’s one that makes (very minor) references to Yeats ‘ great poem, Sailing to Byzantium, in honor of the prompt.

Note that with all my poems, the pauses are not to be taken at the ends of lines unless punctuated, i.e. with a dash or period or comma.

An odd pic, but one I had–no time to make new tonight.