red cat
clarity in
caritas
burns off
the fog
of lies
outruns
the dogs
of war
there’s a
red cat in
all of us
that curls
around
the truth
political process
(1)
the sky is
out of tune
bass notes
droning down
the sky isn’t
falling merely
hovering as
chickens little
prattle do
their dance
waving wings
about leaving
behind a pile
of feathers
(2)
a violence
of opinion
a vanity
that turns
into mania
habitually
ritualistic
a philosophy
of self an
elf who roars
clicks heels
once too
often and
disappears
(3)
if lies aren’t
convincing
why bother
nobody enjoys
a tale going
nowhere myth
needs meat
can’t chew
thin air
fairy floss
leaves us
wanting
waiting for
a real rush
(4)
history has
a heavy hand
that rests
upon us
sometimes
showing which
way not to go
where are
the pitfalls
yet we in
ignorance
or arrogance
qualmlessly
leap off
pent
crow can’t
sleep keeps
the night up
with constant
complaint
as humidity
brews its
thunderstorms
regurgitating
an untamed
percussion
where wild
dreams may
find their way
glee
he whispered
his madrigal
stitched with
the tyranny
of rhyme
aimed it at
the moon
where angels
sing of life’s
mysteries
dog next
door began
to bark in
counterpoint
soliloquy
when we
address
thin air
imagining
a portal
there’s a
faith in
soliloquy
and who
may be
listening
to our
innermost
vulnerability
Terry Wheeler - After graduating from law school in the late 1980s Terry worked in the Australian public service for decades. He was inspired to write after seeing Michael Dransfield poems in The Australian newspaper when a teenager. Terry has been published in Australia and abroad since retiring. He lives in Brisbane when not travelling.
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