so darling, don't ask

but it was lost

and couldn't be found

i went listening for it

but there was no sound

there was dark

when there should have been light

i was sitting alone

in the center of your bombsight

counting grains of sand

slipping thru my hand

and there's a long day ahead

i'm short more than a buck

up for any adventure

but down on my luck

shuffling on a back street

dropping hints

while picking up my feet

there's a trail of tears

and they're mostly mine

so darling, don't ask:

i know i'll be fine

but it was lost

and couldn't be found

i went listening for it

but there was no sound

there was dark

when there should have been light

i was sitting alone

in the center of your bombsight

counting grains of sand

slipping thru my hand

and there's a long day ahead

i'm short more than a buck

up for any adventure

but down on my luck

that Uvalde, Texas Tuesday

well, i didn't know the exact way to hell

so followed a guy in his black pick-up truck

who kept ringing his own alarm bell

heard he was headed to Texas for a double shot of whiskey

something not to be missed

said he was gonna do a week of heavy drinking

'cause he was mighty pissed

yeah, his grandmother was gonna take away his guns

and he wouldn't be ruled

so he was headed to Robb elementary

down along the border

'cause he wanted to be re-schooled

and let me tell you it was a hell of a ride

all the way to madness with a double shot of whiskey by my side

speed limits were posted and the best beer was ice cold

but his rampage was just beginning and he wouldn't be controlled

there was no knock on the door when he led himself inside

and on that Uvalde, Texas Tuesday 

children came in from play

just before they died:

well, i didn't know the exact way to hell

so followed a guy in his black pick-up truck

who kept ringing his own alarm bell

heard he was headed to Texas for a double shot of whiskey

something not to be missed

said he was gonna do a week of heavy drinking

'cause he was mighty pissed

yeah, his grandmother was gonna take away his guns

and he wouldn't be ruled

so he was headed to Robb elementary

down along the border

'cause he wanted to be re-schooled.

pretending to be Voltaire

at least

i have this feeling

and it's not in my underwear!

the important paper was eaten by my dog

when she was pretending to be Voltaire.

running into a golden French sunset

looking for a dime,

out of sorts but within the limits of her time,

she was advocating for free speech

while trying not to preach.

she kept writing about separation;

i stayed busy with preparation

in my old fashioned way,

listening to critics but wanting to have my own say.

the weight i tried to lift seemed hard.

i asked the dealer for another card

like i knew what i was doing,

but i failed.

my dog tried to save me but she was jailed

for criticizing the king

and his entire royal court,

including his Queen

and his favorite consort.

they all happened to be Catholic but it didn't matter:

the church and state were the same,

and neither felt any shame

for jailing a dog and burying her favorite bone

which everyone knew

she liked to chew.

the successful attempt to free my dog

was made one night in dense fog

when the two guards were asleep at their post:

i crept past them both like an earthly ghost.

finally, we were united again and out the prison door,

to look for the Pantheon cemetery in Paris,

somewhere in the Latin Quarter, we heard.

and when we arrived,

we learned someone else had the final word.

at least

i have this feeling

and it's not in my underwear!

the important paper was eaten by my dog

when she was pretending to be Voltaire.

inside Gorky Park

150 calories

are not sufficient for a day of war

and a single stein of beer

has me asking for more

i'm calling London on my phone

hoping someone British is home

"cause Moscow went dark

the lights simply went out 

inside Gorky Park

a wild bear hands out abuse

chasing its' tail

cooking the goose

the ghost of Beria is secretly loose

and no one is answering 

8 days a week

i'm afraid to take a look

but have a quick peek!

it's about what I expected:

a tangle of lies

ordinary working comrades

within a deception of spies

everything coming up roses

so nothing to criticize 

the extreme lows and infrequent highs

no rocking the boat

watching it capsize

150 calories

are not sufficient for a day of war

and a single stein of beer

has me asking for more

i'm calling London on my phone

hoping someone British is home

"cause Moscow went dark

the lights simply went out 

inside Gorky Park.

V. Putin is one very sick puppy

i'm on a sunny deck

wondering how my dog will recover

from being bitten on her tongue by an angry groundhog

which she cornered in the woods

on our Mother's Day walk.

it was a young hog, probably having a first encounter

with a dog, but amazingly adept at defending itself.

my dog, Osa, bled quite a lot. 

even after i managed to separate the gladiators,

she was reluctant to break off the fight.

but i've thoroughly washed her in warm, soapy water,

removing most of the bright blood that had covered her muzzle and

front legs.

but now drinking my second full glass of Port wine is making me

mellow, and i might offer some to her,

as she watches the gold fish in my small pond.

she needs to become more philosophical about her life,

is my conjecture.

the wine, you ask?

yes, it's a quite good Portuguese wine, from the vineyards

in the Douro Valley.

i've opened the bottle and there's no one else to share

it with;

right now i'm alone in my growing older years.

it's okay; i'm fine with this

state of affairs.

see, there's time for cooking and reading, although i've been neglecting

the house cleaning part lately.

mostly it's the Ukraine disaster that's keeping me awake at night,

so maybe another bottle of wine will help me sleep.

i'll consider that thought, while lingering under this early summer afternoon sun.

nearby, i have three large baskets of beautiful flowers hanging from tall poles,

and lots of red and violet dahlias, and a fantastic yellow yarrow,

which is a perennial and it happily survived the cold winter months.

i have an expansive view over a river and easily see the far hills,

but i am disturbed by crazy psychopathic people, and it's

obvious to me that V. Putin is one very sick puppy,

and hopefully his tongue is bleeding, too.

he might need a soapy shower

and a very long nap,

while my dog simply needs a short nap.

he is the major protagonist responsible for the Ukraine disaster.

i hope he has difficulty sleeping at night.

may he never be offered a glass of good Port wine.

cursing Stalin

the Twentieth

or was it the Twenty-second Party Congress

changed course

almost in mid-stream

like in a Goya dream

and it finally occurred to many

life could still offer plenty,

beyond cursing Stalin,

who ate his own people 

without a fork,

enjoying his soup with heaps of steaming pork

while shivering mothers' froze

innocent of any crime

but getting ten years' time

imprisonment

in a punishment cell

(a deep dark basement hell)

or off to a labor camp

to die today or tomorrow

simply heartbreaking pain and sorrow

where nothing is right

daylight becomes night

almost dead

dreaming of being plump, rested, and well fed.