November

 

Early shadows black
And gusty winds from snow topped hills
Mixed the North winds moan.
To aid the creak of beams of oak
And set the scene for tea at dusk.
A silent house and blue tinged sky
Tree tops bend and sweep
An unfettered Northern blast.
An arm, or out reached hand demands again
A re-run of the past.

The Schism

Jerry Cornelius smiled. All the worlds leaders were safely resorting to type at last. Tyrants were once again happily being tyrants, and not playing clumsy games of democracy.  The worlds great democracies were once again ignoring the fact their populations rarely produced a vote that strayed meaningfully beyond a 50 / 50 split. All was happy in the garden. Even the most paradox of democracies, namely Europe, were spitting out resolution after resolution to the set in concrete by the end of the year.
  It was true that the world had seen, at times, recently verging on appearing suspiciously generic in its values. Populations suddenly mattered, and their view points were a seduction to leaders who strangely wanted to impress other countries with alien mindsets, it had been a priority... however illogical that seemed. The world had titled due to the balance change. A dangerous and disorientating place. 
  Jerry knew however that the people were primarily the most hazardous factor in democracy, and that was before the eternal 50 / 50 results had started the routine civil wars. These wars and blood were often shed a local basis, such was the fashion for the " referendum " When viewed from above some countries seriously looked as though a giant cluster bomb had been dropped. 
   An agent could burn out in a year in such kaleidoscopes. Death was a second by second possibility only avoidable by doing or saying nothing which was never going to guarantee survival indefinitely, just as a rising tide will cover you if you stay still long enough. Dont know the local "hot topics  ? " Roll the dice with environmentalist, sexual equalitists and see how you fare. This was the mess that had been unleashed. Western versions of this deadly ecosystem were marginally easier to negotiate than the bastardised tyrant country versions as one could never sniff out the tyrannical government agents and their preferred outcomes. Jerry found chance had served him well here, an under rated tool for the under dog or blind man.

Doorway to Spring

A Spring paper moon hangs in the West
A crescent silhouette .
As her hips twist
An easy contorted lean on my threshold.
A peripheral temptation of shining black.