Two Poems Stored in an Empty Room

This was my old office.  After I moved out a mysterious filing cabinet appeared overnight.  Then disappeared, and everybody pretended nothing was the matter.


Night Whispers

in the evening hours on the front porch
before the deep still rolls in like a fog
preceded by a pause of deathly quiet
when the second awakening arrives
resurrection at the ending of day
the young darkness is alive yet again
alive yet again with cooing whispers
filtered sounds of people conversation
sing song buzz of nocturnal  insect life
secret rustlings at the very edge of light

America Has Talent

while the atomic clocks tick
off the seconds of our life
we chose to dwell
where everyone is typecast
as borderline personalities
drones of corrupted devolution
in the kingdom of banal

living on subsistence entertainment
of  big screen curiosities
with no plot
only artificial drama
convoluted contraptions
conceived with hysterical
over reaction
populated with famous people
you never heard of before

consuming preening personalities
screeching senseless banter
facilitating some contrived contest
requiring feats of strength
or some other meaningless
trivial monkey shine of minor note

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