The Game Is On

The game is on

And we are the pawns.

We make not a single move,

Our kings are locked in their ivory towers

Each trying to outlast the other.

We revel in the spoils, though surely short lived.

Soon we will be crushed,

The trap door beneath us flung open

And we will be flushed into their wells.

The queens they laugh, laugh with a hideous roar,

Their coffers bulging with our blood and sweat.

Opponents from afar, march onward

Caring not the least for us, their enemies innocent.

Yet we do nothing, we do not revolt,

We do not demand better.

Instead these heathens dangle their carrots

And we mindlessly eat from their tainted hands,

Smiling and gulping ravenously.

We consume as though it will never end.

Over and over our mistakes we repeat.

When will we ever learn that…

Big oil and OPEC,

They do not love us.

 

~~ Dominic R. DiFrancesco ~~

 

2014 in review, all in all it was a very good year. Thanks to everyone who made this possible, I truly appreciate you all.

The WordPress.com stats helper monkeys prepared a 2014 annual report for this blog.

Here’s an excerpt:

The concert hall at the Sydney Opera House holds 2,700 people. This blog was viewed about 21,000 times in 2014. If it were a concert at Sydney Opera House, it would take about 8 sold-out performances for that many people to see it.

Click here to see the complete report.

Lowly Water Drop (Tanka)

Lowly water drop
Once gone leaves a ghostly tear
Such are the tears of men
Waste not this precious lifetime
Make goodness your legacy

~~ Dominic R. DiFrancesco ~~

The Kindly Old Gent (Wordle #41)

The kindly old gent with a draftsack before him

Scurries down the chimney of brick.

Graceland or ghetto no matter how grim

He works with an unexplained trick.

Those who don’t believe, scoff and ridicule,

They strangle the joy that he brings.

Claiming his spirit is nothing but minuscule,

A mischief only the daft would dare sing.

The arrogant believe their android smartphones

Hold the key to everlasting peace.

‘Til their batteries fizzle and they’re totally alone

Will they realize, by their conceit, they’ve been fleeced.

Suffice it to say at this intersection of seasons

Those illeists that find themselves superior,

May realize their errors for a number of reasons

Taking on a disposition that’s oh so much cheerier.

 

~~ Dominic R. DiFrancesco ~~

 

Poetry Prompt: Mindlovemisery’s Menagerie – Wordle # 41

Mindlovemisery's Menagerie - Wordle #41

Mindlovemisery’s Menagerie – Wordle #41

Season Nearly Done (Tanka)

Season nearly done

All that’s left is the New Year

The question I ask

Will anything change this time

Or will we fail as always


~~ Dominic R. DiFrancesco ~~

Fingers Of Winter (Haiku)

Fingers of Winter

Tearing at natures chilled flesh

Black flies meet their fate

 

~~ Dominic R. DiFrancesco ~~

 

Watching Them Grow Up (Tanka)

Watching them grow up
A new chapter starts today
Taking to the road
Yes, we pray for their safety
Knowing we must let them go

~~ Dominic R. DiFrancesco ~~

Far and Wide, Far Beyond Horizons I’ve Looked

Far and wide, far beyond horizons I’ve looked,

Looked…looked until I glared at nothingness.

Staring straight into the gruesomeness of its face

It manages nothing but a hideous, jagged smile,

A chuckle from deep within its bowels born of hell.

I…what could I, a miserable wretch possibly do?

I am afraid, frightened of what I cannot see.

This monster is not deterred, I can feel its presence

Looming large over me, clawing at my sanity.

I can feel its steaming breath, hot at my throat;

Pulse racing, heart pounding, I tremble losing control.

Grasping the Book I raise it skyward

Screaming, crying, falling to my blackened knees.

Prostrate and bruised for a response, I wait

Yet there is none, no answer, nothing but silence.

Silence and nothingness are all that greet my tears.

I despise this hollow, sorrowful, lonely quest

Plagued with questions thicker than a locust’s swarm.

Nary an answer have I been offered all these years.

Appeasement through words written in an aged text,

My only comfort, based on a promise given in antiquity

I suppose this…this solemn promise alone,

Is the gift offered through

…Faith.

 

~~ Dominic R. DiFrancesco ~~

 

A Single Flame Burns (Haiku)

A single flame burns
Brightly under Christmas sky
Hope springs eternal

~~ Dominic R. DiFrancesco ~~

Hark The Herold Angels Sing

Hark the Herold Angels Sing,

Though now it falls on deaf ears.

Ushering in the Heavenly King,

Whose death no longer brings tears.

 

Lessons he taught in Gospels treasured,

Of peace and goodwill toward men.

Is doled out in statement of profits measured,

Beating records for sales once again.

 

Magi of old Bethlehem Star they followed,

With precious gifts to give to their Lord.

Today Christmas’ meaning has truly been hollowed,

With Black Friday and doorbusters for the hoards.

 

The birth of God’s Son in manger mild,

Welcoming the promise of old.

We’ve forgotten the gift of Heaven’s Child,

Preferring what’s bought and what’s sold.

 

Maybe it’s time to bring Christ back to Christmas,

Just where he always meant to live.

Before it’s too late and it’s meaning has passed,

Instead of receiving it’s best that we give.

 

~~ Dominic R. DiFrancesco ~~