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(Okay, let’s see now:

You were maliciously awakened one dozen times last night by a hate filled criminal ~ with the tacit approval of local and national law enforcement and the active support of every home in the neighborhood in which you park.

They’ve let it go on for so long that even if ~ by some amazing twist of accidental fate ~ they found themselves actually taking him off the streets, it would no longer make a bit of difference in your life.

He has educated many followers.

… What kind of poetry do you feel like publishing?

The poet thanks historian Zambrotta of Italy for printing for compilation all posts and correspondences concerning this targeted victimization.)

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Recorded Reading (3:00): https://www.dropbox.com/scl/fi/q8is3jgw5de85bkpw7s11/Worse-Than-Bored.wav?rlkey=robccysexq08prv9kyxc2d72o&dl=0

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Worse Than Bored

They say the dog is man’s best friend
I think all creatures are
Or would be if we hominids
Were not at constant war

With all things free and beautiful
All things small and meek
We egoistically feel
Compared to us are poor and weak

Just as the Aborigines
A culture of ten thousand years
When read of in our textbooks
Hist’ryless appears

We scorn the offerings of all
The friendly animals around ~
Our cruelties the soul appall
In callusness abound

Condemning insect brothers to
Horrors unimag’nable
When simple herbs for them would make
Our turf unmanag’ble

Songbirds cannot light upon
A windowsill or stoop
Because afterward we might have
To hose down a little poop…

To match th’ occasional story of
An unusual noble dog
Who’se saved a child from drowning
Or found one in the fog

We have those, too, of creatures
From dolphins, birds unto
Who’ve demonstrated many times
Love for the likes of me and you

We keep the canine near us
And uncomplainingly
Clean up its poop or whate’er else
It brings us there to be

Because it is the only beast
Which cringe and cower will
When we get our high horses on
To implement our will

And will forgive the worst trespass
Upon its sanctity
And afterward still lick our toes
Ingratiatingly

Surrounded by the ugliest
Verbalizations nature of ~
Along with every other sound
Which comes from lack of love

We hug to us our televised
Mayhem, woe and misery
Sounds of weeping, screaming, war
Our entertainment be

Don’t ask us to go out to hear
A little birdsong — Lord!
Heaven knows how instantly
We would be worse than bored!

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This poet is physically disabled. Public housing being insufficient to her medical and creative needs, she is presently living, in order to continue working, in her minivan, publishing all of her works using one thumb on the touch screen of her smartphone, surviving at an income of a fraction of her nation’s poverty level. She would treasure any donation you might care to offer ~ http://www.UgiftABLE.com ● #72D-31S.

Please be aware that it takes several days for the poet to be notified of contributions. International patrons please contact the poet via email or post a comment for the necessary numbers.

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