Whispered Wanderings

Absently finger-combing my hair,
but not at all
caring how it looks, I watch the
days just kind of fade into one another.
Everything lately has become tinged with a
funereal somberness that brings to mind
grim times of the distant past; I really
haven’t the stomach for much of it anymore.
Illusions of some perfect world, they tout; and
just don’t see that everyone knows how
kleptocratic they’ve all become.
Lies and more lies: a powerful
monsoon of over exaggerations and untruths
not seen since – well I won’t say it.
Oblivious – obnoxious – even obscene some of it, the
purpose I fail to understand. I do wish they’d all just
quit. Then we could start over, start fresh. Do it the
right way all the way around. Ah but
such a notion is just more foolishness, it’s
too late, much too late, to hope for redemption now!
Utopia cannot exist here on earth; if it did I am
very certain that
we humans would just destroy it anyway. So
Xanadu will have to wait: our collective
yearning instead should perhaps be channeled into growing
zucchinis in our gardens.

klm
10/19/24