a penny’s worth of death, a poem MindLoveMisery’s Wordle # 166


Here is my Wordle, using the dozen words provided in the  MindLoveMisery’s  excerise published June 17, 2015.


a penny worth of death

A gun, dark and dreadful,
cold steel caressing the unwilling hand
seductive music of silence and pain…
among bloody ravages of the plague
as dancing creatures
defy the promise of the Tarot foretelling the kiss
that comes forth—
levitating, tentatively echoing
the sparking retort of the pistol’s release
of a penny’s worth of death.

©Sometimes, 2017

Appropriate old song for Our Times…Buffalo Springfield

I thought of this good old song by Buffalo Springfield, from I think 1966.  I think the lyrics are highly appropriate now, in 2016.   The meaning is not quite the same as I think it was back in the day…but close enough to bring chills.    There are so many parallels on every level in today’s battles…not only military battles, and police difficulties…but especially the issues over guns now being fought in the U.S. Congress as well.   I know, everything they do in Washington and on the campaign trail is Circus Quality drama dealing with deadly and obscene arguments and technicalities over IF and how to keep guns out of the hands of terrorists.   In my opinion ANY one with a gun pointed at innocent people in a crowd or public building  should be considered a terrorist.  NO ONE needs an automatic weapon that is designed to kill large numbers of people at one time…fast and furious.  Hanging one of these ultra-military style weapons on the wall is a far cry from hanging a Civil War sword or an old Muzzle-loader Musket on display in one’s living room.
Here are the lyrics to FOR WHAT IT’S WORTH… published by Google Music.

There’s something happening here
What it is ain’t exactly clear
There’s a man with a gun over there
Telling me I got to beware

I think it’s time we stop, children, what’s that sound
Everybody look what’s going down

There’s battle lines being drawn
Nobody’s right if everybody’s wrong
Young people speaking their minds
Getting so much resistance from behind

It’s time we stop,  hey, what’s that sound
Everybody look what’s going down

What a field-day for the heat
A thousand people in the street
Singing songs and carrying signs
Mostly say, hooray for our side

It’s s time we stop, hey, what’s that sound
Everybody look what’s going down

Paranoia strikes deep
Into your life it will creep
It starts when you’re always afraid
You step out of line, the man come and take you away

We better stop, hey, what’s that sound
Everybody look what’s going down
Stop, hey, what’s that sound
Everybody look what’s going down
Stop, now, what’s that sound
Everybody look what’s going down
Stop, children, what’s that sound
Everybody look what’s going down

© Buffalo Springfield, 1966


Cowboy Mentality

Our cowboy mentality
runs  ripshod over good sense
root’em and shoot them
and debate it later in past tense.

We love our guns, our right to bear them,
but not responsibility or mortality
and certainly we don’t want to hear
of upset stability or equilibrium.

Ragged little boys playing at war
with weapons of steel–or straw–
all the same effect when in a draw,
bash ’em and smash them and more.

We hate them because they hate us,
and if they hit us we will hit them.
On second thought, let’s do it first…
no sense in waiting to talk it over
to decide if such action’s for better or worse.

At the debate, were we paying attention?
Did I hear the “D” word? As in: “bring back the draft?”
Only  whispers…which brought on a shudder…
a hint of the horrors contained in discussion.

My own sons are old, grandsons too…
but there are younger possible future soldiers.
Remote, you say?  Unlikely?  Plenty of time?
Doubters can see the writ on the wall of the BMV.