Stomach Pains (Q. 5)

[Not really anywhere at all, but color is pale]
The worst pain is a lack of feeling.
In the interest of time and space
I abdicate myself, watching dry paint wet
And balk at the principle of action

Capitulation (Quippet No. 4)

[Nowhere in particular, end of day yet again]

In the face of the impossible:

Religious militance, misinformation overload mislabeled, conspiracy of wealth …

And a generation of children left behind (ca. 2001)

I am, frankly, tired and lost

Prophet (Quippet No. 3)

[Somewhere near miracle street, Pennsylvania Station]

The apocalypse is etched in his sagging eyes

More bombastically than poster-board repentance

Nostradamus lullabies quell his poetry;

His lips parched for the Blood of Christ

Restless (Quippet No. 2)

A short form of poetry using a setting and a quatrain, coined by https://spectrous.wordpress.com/

[In a fugue at the crossroad of tomorrow]

Virulent madness never sleeps

And on return repeating

Light of god beyond shut eyes

That dreams but never rests