Milk and sugar in my tea: A poem 

The milk and sugar in my cup of tea 

is my insulation against vagary 

Not a dawn goes without 

this dose of up and about  

I am always muse for news 

Though it’s all wily subterfuge and ruse 

The dawn seems not to be breaking 

from all this countless waking 

But I will still have milk and sugared tea 

For, it is for me; there is too much at sea 

Does humanity bleed? Is it an extension 

of the word humane, or just a pretension? 

Greed and power are widowers 

who don’t mourn over sacrileged flowers 

The sky is worn out by soulless suns 

that only shine with ruthless guns