A Countercultural Dictionary of Nothing

My tries silenced by misanthropic silences;
Beeswax halting creative flow
Scream from within: numbers on a line, negative, positive, relative, flow
I see, you see, but feel flows, my friend.
If you have it, flaunt it, my friend of many years
For years will divulge the secrets of our short time
And people will gather to hear late reminiscences
Of the dogs of war, and men of hate
We perambulate, we procrastinate
And we see what we refuse to see.

For the Jugular Bean, a friend and inspiration through ages.

Roman Ball Games, Anyone?

Some champion the cause of Pairity
While others esteem the virtues of Singularity
The Pairity camp is singular in that they deride without charity
The life of the individual bent on solitairity.
The Singulars parry calmly by drawing attention to the deep disparity
Between the proportion of the dinner bill laid on the table by the Man
And his Manatee.
But Pairs in their rebuttal will rebut,
Will hmm, haw, tsk-tsk, and tut-tut,
And point out that the broken-hearted heart owner
Is better than the individual possessing the heart of a loner.
But can I make a proposal, with due modesty?
I humbly suggest we mingle in groups of three.
Let us reject this morbid fascination with Singles, and Doubles;
For trios, trinities, triumvirates, triplicates, and troikas will save us much trouble.
To those enamoured of Ones and Twos,
Haven’t you heard? Three is company, too.

The Ocean Blues

I felt the ocean today
Rising in tumult around us,
Tearing at sinews
Steady relentless beating acid
Eating at shores and continents,
Like hunger at stomachs lined with emptiness.
Making islands of men
And pebbles of hard hearts.
I see your ruins at a distance.
I hunger. I hunger.
I tasted the ocean today
Bitter brine from eager cheek flow
Parting reluctant lips.
Speak in tongues
Of Sadness and Longing.
Tongues of Sadness
And Longing.

Longing

Longing is the price we pay for a central nervous system.