William Webb Poems

Not even in an onion pizza dream could I contrive
Deceit, conceit and hubris (and buffoonery) like I’ve
Borne witness to in Washington o’er these two thousand days
And more, since NeoCons and George the Second got their ways.
...

I've never really understood why anyone would want to live in a condominium
Except for power freaks who are excited about being on the board and running their own dominion
And folks from abusive families and relationships who are so accustomed to being doormats
That they'll put up with just about any kind of intrusive bullcrap about how they should live in their own flats.
...

It must have seemed good sense to drain the swamps,
The marshes, sloughs, and other secret places.
For surely they appeared to be land wasted
On snakes, sawgrass, and other useless things.
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Oh no! My God! Is that a bug?
A lizard scoots across the rug
And panicked snowbirds get the spray
Or call the bug-man up and say
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I'd love to write a poem about the air,
About the thrills and freedom that I found
Those many thousand feet above the ground
Away from Earth and all my problems there.
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Well, I could spin you tales of troughs aloft
How masses move between the poles and doldrums
Regale you with the intricacies of
The Polar High, La Niña and El Niño
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It isn't easy bein' black
And that is just a natural fact.
'Cause blackness makes you stand right out.
In any crowd there'll be a shout
...