Threatening Mushrooms

We all sit under the threatening mushrooms,

Fat ignorant fingers, 

Attached to fat ignorant hands,

Hold all our fates with a buttery grip.

This world is a sinking slippery ship,

Held afloat, afloat by a careless oiled grip.

 

Better minds hold their heads in dismayed hands,

Our past has been forgotten, we walk on repeating sands.

Backs all facing reason, 

Cheeks all turned about.

Madness threatens to send us back to stone.

Suggested violence now seems,

The daily current tone.

 

 

Copyright © 2017 Charlie Hasler.

 

 

Rage

Rage

it used to make me strong

but over time

made me weaker

there was irony

all along.

Hands sweaty

back arched

ready to battle

moments charged.

The shake of the rush

courses through

strength of ten men

unleashes on you.

Guns blazing

no glory

the sad tale

of a once true story.

Punching walls

knuckles bleed

with a wide arm stance

stood a man in need.

But that time has past

Its no longer me

a mournful regret

of the man

you see.

 

 

Copyright © 2017 Charlie Hasler.