Life Warp

Perusing the hardware store
(shops are limited these days)
nothing to tantalize the imagination
still, I browse, searching for normalcy.

Death loiters in aisle 9
taunts me with visions of life
once vibrant, now stolen
leers at me and I bolt

Grocery store holds more allure
ingredients to stir the appetite
the phantom stalks here too
leaves fingerprints on tin cans

The coffee shop has drinks to go
but the spectre follows, leers
schoolboy smug – I’m not sure
whether to laugh or cry

Unamused by the implications
and yet somehow reassured –
the humour doesn’t escape me –
warped this new norm.

Just Get To The Point

Censor tendencies
to exaggerate –
tremendous efforts
better illustrated
than bragged about

If it’s royal accolades
you seek, be precise –
a message delivered
in plain packaging
is not overshadowed
by unnecessary glitter.

(Tuesdays I borrow from my Twitter account @Vjknutson.  Image from personal collection.)

Brute

The man is rhino
mere stench of him
inspires fear
clears the room

We cower, quietly
captivated little mice
terrified he’ll call us out
bullied into submission

But this status quo
bears no permanence
time and circumstances
will topple the power

And once writhing
on his backside, who
will venture to help
who will leave him be?

(Eugi’s Causerie Weekly Prompt is captivating.  I’ve altered the word to fit my purpose.  Image from personal collection.)

Corporate Inequality

Wore green shoes –
a shock of colour
to highlight business –
attire aimed to succeed.

Walked ten blocks
rode fourteen floors
passed security,
heels continually clicking.

Navigating male-dominated
passages, I was driven
ignored patronizing comments
exercised for corporate ladder

But the lies, the betrayal,
the dirty little secrets,
they taunted me –
sold me out in back rooms

Broke under pressure
vile accusations, improper
propositions – How did
gender equate with progress

How did firmness of pert
breasts, the flash of muscled
calves, exempt me from rising –
Why should my efforts fall short

By refusals to drop my panties
and who could I go to –
boss and boss’s boss
all male, in on the plots

Big business banking –
financially fruitful
personally demoralizing –
I walked away, morals intact.

(For Reena’s Exploration Challenge:featured image.   Sexual harassment was rampant during the 70’s and 80’s.   Although we have known progress, the struggle for equality continues.)

Current Confusion

Project importance on institutions
confused about what is legitimate

You see, I am worn out,
stunned by reality.

Officials promote chaos
critical thinking a stretch

Anyway, I’m anxious,
almost off the rails.

How do I pull back the strings
that control these emotions

disconnect from the idiocy
allow clarity to guide choices?

(Image from personal collection.)

 

The Pawn

Of course she is away
caught in the schism
of her parents’ divorce
played like a pawn

She is emotionally numb
incapable of articulating
wants and desires – broken
though no one notices.

(Poem originally appeared on Twitter.  Visit me @Vjknutson.  Image from personal collection.)

Is There An Exit Strategy?

Following political tides –
mesmerized by neglect
of actual issues – playing
to an audience of moaners
(standard consumerist
plights) – glossing over
exploitation of women,
verbal slaughter of race,
religion and social values.

Wondering about media –
who commandeer bias,
swallowing atrocities and
spewing contrived truths,
absent sound voice, or will,
jeopardizing the security
of so many trampled in
the race for what? Surely
not responsibility – what

lapse of conscience has
allowed hateful rhetoric
to bloody progress, no
consequences?  Who will
bear the burden when in
the absence of morality
or respect for humanity,
the margins will increase?

The world quakes at the
failure to acknowledge
this broken path, see only
a devaluation of assets,
perceive a race that did
no more than increase
the monarchy of a king,
grant power to absolve
sins – a sleight-of-hand
trick – nothing to do with
the common habitants –
have so many questions
about how they’ll proceed.

(First penned in November of 2016, I am resubmitting this piece for Reena’s Exploration challenge#120.  Image from personal collection.)

Christmas Baking

Dates soften in the pan –
I stir with preoccupation
fresh-faced excitement
motivating each step.

I measure sugar, oats,
flour, the enormity
of my heart’s capacity
to love these young ones.

Add butter, and mix,
each stroke a hug,
anticipating enjoyment
a sweet connection.

Pat and bake, timer set,
bright eyes and tiny palms
lift upwards with sparkle –
Christmas cheer upon us.

(For Ragtag Community’s prompt: mix.  Image from personal collection.)