Solutions

O my corrupted eye,
Sight lines interrupted
For self-inflicted comforts,
Diurnal placebos
Clothed like voters
In their healthy, plastic republic.

Where did my kingdom go?
What happened to my wealth?

They pasted a gluey solution
To the body of that boy,
A million flies swarmed
In a huge amorphous form,
All beauty there destroyed.

I turned to my blind guide
Who often liked to confide
Such scenes in me,
His expression one of boredom
As I spoke without words,
“I thought I was role-playing
In a game I did not ask for”,
And then, I said,
I misunderstood,
Only now. to find out,
I am no longer dead.

State Rooms

In a dream
I am painting
State rooms
For the Queen.

Before reviewing
Each room and
Each paint pot
Her Majesty had to
Take a call
Which wasn’t odd at all
And at odds with not
Before we fall.

Acorn green
From eggy paste,
I complimented
Regal tastes,
But underneath I
Plant in haste
Words I heard
Within her wake,
Succinct,
Pertaining to
All I knew about
Her commodore’s
Disgrace.