Alien Blues 

Carrots dangle on strings 

before their eyes 

as whips snap and crack 

in the form of lies  

and the stress and strain  

is all they know 

while a cadence blares 

it’s rock and roll 

and the pay never seems 

to make the grade 

and then there’s the fear 

of another raid 

but the masters still smile 

for all they’ll save 

in the ancient tradition 

of owner and slave.

Old Timer 

When they talk about 

the good old days 

believe me, 

they really were 

the good old days 

till someone came along 

singing their song 

about freedom and change 

as if to rearrange 

and improve upon 

the perfect gods 

of our immaculate youth

Retired 

I can’t, won’t even begin to tell you 

who, what and where I’ve been 

but I feel like a bit of debris 

in the wall of a tornado 

spinning down and 

down  and  down

then  discarded

on the ground 

with nothing

 but  vague  

memories

of better

days

An Aerial View
by Dave Holloway

Notice how the aerial view

make cities look cool and new.

Yet on the streets below,

the same old thing where ever you go.

Whiffs of indifference, melting tar,

sirens screaming near and far.

Vain promises in shiny shoes.

Sidewalk beggars crying the blues.

Outstretched palms, anything will do.

All invisible from an aerial view.

My 55 word entry for http://bluebellbooks.blogspot.com

Life 

The days of our life’s 

are like the pages of a book.  

A good book.  

A book we could go on reading forever. 

Sitting on a table, 

dog-eared and beckoning 

to be picked up again 

but we know it’s almost finished 

so we put it off.

Save it for a time to be savored. 

But we’re conditioned
by due dates and routines  

to hurry through it as fast as we can.

Skimming over paragraphs 

and sometimes whole chapters 

just to get it done with, 

accomplished or whatever.

The Shepherd’s Men 

The shepherd’s men culled the flock.

One in five then feasting on mutton divine.

One became two and two became five.

They stuffed themselves for all was fine.

Feast after feast the sheep soon gone.

The men panicked, sang a woeful song.

Cried to the shepherd give us more sheep.

He agreed and left.  The men fell asleep.

Woke the next morning to their recovery.

Prided themselves in their victory

and to celebrate another culling was done.

The feast began at the setting sun.

Just imagine

welding the same thing

5000 times a day

for anything less

they’ll dock your pay

which graciously amounts

to 12 dollars a day

and it's just good business

only an ocean away

from a ticker tape parade

for rich hero’s who play

while decorated soldiers

are pushed away

by mayors who boast

and cheerfully say

maybe they'll get theirs
some other day.