The year is 2092; The world has really changed. Reality is quite askew- And society more deranged. Technology has taken over, Fat bodies now sit at home. People no longer get along- Most people live alone. Our minds are slowly fading. The new generations are lost- To laziness and loathsomeness… Technology has surely cost. Children are manufactured; Their parents are machine. The elderly are suicidal- Gone mad by what they’ve seen....
The tiny men marched on to fight, As the two towering brothers looked on in delight. Who was to win? Both thought they were. Deep down inside, the soldiers could not be sure. The soldiers – they thought of their lives back home, Of the women and children that were their own… Still they marched on, and still the were watched, The brothers getting anxious – though neither had yet ‘lost’....
Sex sells they say With passive voices As if there are No other choices. To degrade yourself- Why, it is ok, It is worth… The material pay. What of morals, Of self respect? These are things They do not expect. They think that things Must not be changing. It is not worth The humility of raging… Against the accepted, And the public view, They’d rather give in- It’s what they do....
If I could tell you what I knew- Or could speak of how I knew it – I would tell. If I thought it’d help, if I thought you’d listen- I’d enlighten you to all the times I fell. If there was some way I could learn your lesson for you, I would do so. Or if I could make life easier I would, but I can’t, as we both know....
It, like many, was a still clear night, The child held me with an arm. As she listened to her parents fight… Her heart beat furiously with alarm. One hand was squeezing me tightly, The other was in her mouth. She couldn’t understand, rightly, What the argument was about. Daddy hadn’t come home after school. He seldom did you see, And when he did come home, he was cruel....
There lies a valley beyond a hill- Or perhaps just beyond a windowsill- Where the child watching the rain, Can go and from worry refrain. The dances of the droplets abundant- The quiet sound never seems redundant. And, though few and far between- There is magic to be seen. How very imaginative and full of thrill- Is the world beyond the windowsill.
A helmet head and pilots goggles- Swimming through the breeze- As the battered wings of propulsion Keep afloat the slender body of green In an instant the bubble eyes zoom past my own- And look fiercely towards the air ahead. With feet extended and joints loosely locked- The insect lands swiftly upon its tiny black legs- Rested, a moment later, again quickly soaring- The dragonfly pursues its destiny — living to fly....
hear me crying to you, dear the cold air brings my song it pokes and bites – you fear we may take you before long air like smoke upon your hands clench your scarf in fright you think someone understands? then walk out into the night allow that I may surround fill your ears and eyes the verge of the profound magnifies the lies that’s not heaven you see...
my eyes are open, and i sleep in a world my thoughts alone do keep so long since i’ve been here, thick dust covers every mirror i dust it lightly and still face, transparent eyes dart around the place turning then, self not quite found i discover me – i’m all around dark, light, liquid, solid, air life itself, because i am there my lonesome mind creates men, and very soon introduces sin...
The rustic teacher, behind her dust-covered desk, speaks- Of a topic she’s droned on about for many, many weeks. She creaks as she stands and walks to the front of her class, Retrospectively she blinks at students not willing to pass. ~~~ For an instant she’s seated in a pupils’ small desk, Her hands are not feeble, she has no breasts. She’s young again and not interested in learning,...