Little
tweaks grind into flux
As pressure
of income
Rather than
outcome versus
Doing the ‘proper’
thing
Begets
frustration, always
Finding the
shuttle back to
Where we run
from as escape
Needs not
fulfilled at base level
Foster anger,
hurt and fear
Which span the
range of emotion
Neither allowing
tranquil peace
Nor settling
of the tandems of
Interrelated
thought process
Life
requires Dylan-esque calm
Shelter from
the storm as geometric
Cards
envelope self-actualization
‘You can’t
take it personally’
She says as
she digs … deeper
Engraining
monoculture lies while
Wasting community
circles of equity
Equity?
Tough concept for a
Me only
world where selfish
Acquisition
appears the end game
For why else
would one foul
A nest but
for fear of whatever
It is that
we happen to fear
Shitting
bricks, fanning flames
Then running
away to hide
From too
many gory details
Forces
unleashed by attitudes
Of come what
may and que sera’
Retire all
plans of temporal order
One can
never plan for the whimsical
Chaos of
scorched Gaia, who wants
Yet cannot
nurture, cannot give
Given the
present constraints of space
Given the
present shackles on time
© 2007 lemme howdt
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