They tell me not to spell out āsh*tā!
But, nothing else quite seems to f*t!
They claim some folks will look awry
If I insert the little āiā.
But hereās the thing I contemplate:
What difference to this warring State?
Should I insist on āiā or āIā?
Is it a case of do or die?
I happily forego the spite
That tells me I am always right.
(The āiā is like a winking child;
Or beacon lighting up the wild!)
How much is substance, how much form?
How to get beyond the norm?
How to take it all in strideā
To kick the bucket, yet abide?
Some folks I know wonāt write out G_d.
Iāve always found that somewhat o_d.
Wouldnāt the All-Seeing One
Know the hearts of everyone?
In this world of counterfe*tsā
Political and legal sh*ts,
Why not ban a word like āk*llā?
Would that give the perverse a thr*ll?
Weāre told to read between the lines.
The sun peeks out between the pines
And melts the snow beneath our shoes,
And dissipates three months of blues.
Once, scholars quibbled over pins:
How many angels rubbed their shins
Together on a pointy head?
(The Reaper cameā¦ and knocked them dead!)
We lose ourselves in petty lies.
We grope, circumvent, devise
A thousand schemes, overlooked clues.
The curtain closes on a ruse.
Gary Corseri has posted and published articles, fiction, poetry and dramas at Common Dreams, CounterPunch, Dissident Voice, The New York Times, Village Voice and hundreds of other venues internationally. His dramas have appeared on Atlanta-PBS and elsewhere.He has performed his work at the Carter Presidential Library.
His books include the novels, A Fine Excess: An Australian Odyssey and Holy Grail, Holy Grail: Quest East, Quest West
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