The Sonnet that Crowded Midnight

Some “poems” are really essays thin-disguised.
Some essays play with ring-around-the-poesy.
Some Weisenheimers never do get wised;
There’s Curious, and then there’s Downright Nosy.

The digital’s Eleven Forty-Five.
I wrote the title as a challenge, see,
Eleven Forty-Two. And still alive
Are hopes that meaning clears, and bard’s guilt-free.

Eleven Forty-Seven. Less than twelve
Evolving minutes left, and on they tick.
The theme is easy: Time won’t let you shelve
An opportunity, so make it stick!

The crucial final couplet sums it up;
Eleven-Fifty–I can raise my cup.

Started: 11:39 PM, Mountain Standard Time, 10 April 2014
Finished: 11:52 PM, Mountain Standard Time, 10 April 2014

telling

long ago i read the godfather
and learned of the word and concept omerta
translation: silence
concept: it is dishonorable to inform law enforcement of crimes

when my brother was a guest of maricopa county
and its testosterone-poisoned sheriff
he learned the doggerel phrase
snitches with faces full of stitches
you don’t snitch in tent city
not if you know what’s good for you

don’t ask don’t tell
was a buzzphrase for quite a while

yet journalists and poets are in the business of telling on the world
some are deemed heroes

here is a tale out of school:
this–what i am doing right now–is coming to be
because someone i barely know
but is a “facebook friend”
posted a photo of a woman
and said this is the woman my husband is dating;
what do you think about that?

well i never was my first and kneejerk response
she was telling on him
wow what a can of worms
but then: count on this happening more and more
and finally: tell on yourself
if you mess up fess up
hey–how about not messing up in the first place?

hey stupid

limpid
pallid
tepid
foetid
turgid
fervid

all neatly packaged concept words

stupid

not so much
misleading
originally referencing stupefaction
now indicative of a lack of smarts

humid

has moisture written all over it,
doesn’t it?
you feel like you need a shower just hearing about it,
don’t you?

the relative stupidity is twenty-two percent
and rising
the loved-one stupidity slightly more
or less
the stranger stupidity you don’t want
to know