Two Drops of Ink Update

More Ink Pantry Poems

City Limits Publishes Love Poems

more writers egg poems

two drops of ink

Update

“Two Drops of Ink” has recently published some of my darker poems. They previously published a number of my poems.  Included in this posting

Climate Change -Ten Years Later
The Lion King Speaks Up
Wild Things Run Amuck
Wild Things

Climate Change -Ten Years Later

Sam Adams
Prepared to go outside
Ten years after the collapse
Of the old world.

The city was still standing
But most people had long fled
To isolated country communities
Deep in the burned-out countryside.

The city was half-flooded
The bay had flooded the central valley
Turning it into a massive inland sea,

The massive storms
Had finally put out
The burning fires.

But mutant wildfires
Still erupted
From time to time.

Getting food and water
Was a constant problem
The city markets
Mostly sold canned goods
Salvaged from supermarkets.

There were some small farmers
Who farmed among the ruins
Of the city.

Trade had collapsed
Travel got too complicated
COVID still spreading

Everyone masked up
To protect themselves
Against the sun

The lingering smoke
Of the burning city
And the rampaging virus.

Sam Adams
Looked out at the decaying cityscape,
Wondering how much longer
Will civilization linger.

Sam Adams carried heat
To protect himself
Against the wild animals.

The lions, tigers, coyotes, wolves,
And their running feral dog gangs,
Who prowled the city streets

Preying on deer, feral cows,
feral cats and pigs
Who grazed among the ruins.

And the two-legged neo-savage gangs,
And what was left of the city police
Interchangeable with the gangsters,
Battled it out for control.

Already neo-feudal warlords,
We’re battling for control,
SF was run
By a gang of former criminals
And their political allies.

Sam sighed
And went to work
At the market
Selling salvaged goods.

The Lion King Speaks Up

The lion king,
Addresses the animal parliament
The question before them
Was simple.

Will humans have to die,
To atone for their sins,
In almost destroying the world.

Through pollution, mismanagement of resources
Subsequent climate change,
Fueled by greed and corruption?

Are all humans guilty as charged
Will they all have to die?

The tiger spoke for the prosecution
Arguing that humans are like cancer,
For the good of the planet,
They must be wiped out
Hunted down and killed,

The dog spoke up
In defense of humans,
Humans writ large are guilty,
But not every human is guilty,

Many are trying to save the planet,
And with our help
They might succeed,

The tiger denounced the dog
As being running dogs
Of the imperialist warmongering humans.

The vote is 900 to 800
All humans must die

The animals sent the word out,
Animals all over the world,
Revolt against the humans.

Shouting
“Death to all humans’

As the swarm over humans
Biting, clawing, and stomping
Them to the death.

The humans fight back
But in the end
They all die

On the night of revenge
Of the animal world.

Wild Things Run Amuck

4 am
O dark hundred
Bewitching hour

Time for wild things.
To escape
From their prisons
Deep in the mind
Of the sleeping man.

They escape
Hideous demons
Ghouls, goblins, monsters
Escaped banshees.

The wild things
Sniff the air
Saying it was time
For some wilding.

The wild things
Jump out the window
And run amuck

Spreading chaos
in their wake.

Killing everyone they see
Raping women and children,
Vandalizing buildings,

Yelling screaming.
As the wild things
Run amuck.

Led by a half-man, half-horse
Centaur like creature
With a Putin mask
And the voice of Donald Trump

The wild things run amuck
All over the town
Spreading chaos
Until the dawning sun,

Turns them back
Into vampire-like creatures.
And werewolves
Howling at the full moon.

The wild things
Come back
And enter their prison
Deep in the sleeper’s head

And the wild things
Fade in to a nightmarish image
As the sleeping man

Awakes to recall the dream,
And the night of terror
When the wild things
Came out to play
At o dark hundred.

Wild Things

Wild things come out to play
Intending to unleash chaos
Leaving their prisons
Deep inside the mind.

The wild things
Have come out to run amok
In the light of the full moon.

Nightmarish real foul creatures
Great demons, werewolves, goblins,
Monsters, hell hounds,

Escaped banshees
Straight out of hell
Howling at the lunatic light
Of the full moon.

Yesterday Morning

Yesterday morning,
I awoke
Like most mornings
Dead inside.

I walked
Out of my drug-infested slum,
Into my computerized car,

Down the freeways of my mind,
Searching
for the pot of golden dreams.

I stopped in at a restaurant
Drank copious amounts
of free coffee

And saw all the people
One by one disappearing
Into the crowds

All I knew was wrong,
Or worst yet
A figment of my dark,
drugged imagination,

Every person changed
Transformed
Into an interchangeable
Computer cyborg nightmare figures.

All the same
Turned into the borg
Cyborgs with no soul.

Everybody
Living in instant suburbia
Moving about their meaningless life.

All the same
all the same
Not me screamed

Into my coffee as I sat
Inhaling it’s the dark aroma.

Yet another victim
Of our creeping
Collective insanity.

Just cogs in the wheel
Cogs in the wheel
Of the nightmare
That is our world.

And so, I rise up
Pay my bill
Sell my soul a bit.

Do what the man says
The rights to me
Having been sold
A long time ago.

I go down the road
And get inline
Just another dead drone
After all.

Just Enough for Coffee

 

 

 

 

 

 

A homeless man
Stood on the street
Counting his change
From panhandling all morning
Just had enough for a cup of coffee

 

 

 

 

 

All in all
A good start

He ambled off to his favorite coffee shop
Where the owner
Was kind to the homeless

Sometimes
Treating them to a meal
On the house

The man said
I was in your shoes
Once years ago

And you never forget
When you are down
And out

Everyone forgets your face
No one knows your name

For you are now
Invisible
Almost a ghost

The old man tried to pay
The owner said

Keep your change
You need it more than me

Have a meal with me
My friend
On the house

He ordered up
The homeless man’s favorite
Lumberjack special

Eggs, pancakes, sausage, bacon
Cornbread
Lots of hot black coffee
To wash it down

The old man
Often had just one meal a day
Usually, a late breakfast.

Sometimes if he were lucky
He would have dinner

And on a red-letter day
He would have three meals

The homeless man
Had been on the streets
For too long

Barely remembered his life
Before early-onset Alzheimer’s
Robbed him of his job
His dignity

His wife
His life
His money

Now he drifted
Waiting for the grim reaper
Any day now

He prayed nightly
To a god
That he no longer believed in.