Not my business, it is theirs
This season speaks of thoughtless
Jaguars, who parade our streets with
Fainted hopes, disillusioned spirits.
Season speaks of the pessimists, who
chant the lyrics of the failures of the few;
A resonant anthem on the lips of many.
“Oh, it’s not my business” Filthy thoughts!
Clueless calibers drowning in the dark zone,
Even with the greenness of their blood.
How long do we continue to take courage
In the facades of our bountiful harvests?
And, how long do we cope with miseries?
Dangling, swinging, and clinging so close
To our sight like breast in the mouth of, of
A Suckling. Or beating fast like its throbbing
How long do we take solace in the hueness
That will soon fade and fail us..?