Friday, February 03, 2012

The Rebel Yells of Adults

Will not do this,
So think again my friend,
Though not friendly,
An obvious assertion,
From an observed tantrum,
My refusal loud and bright,
Seen from space,
With screams dying,
As they leave Earth,
Fading out of atmosphere,
To mark this outrage,
At something trivial,
Like bedtime for the aged,
Forced feeding,
The completion of meals,
The lack of dropped lines,
In poetry these days,
Because pages fit words now,
Not words forced to split,
Dragging the eye down,
Before carriage returns,
And the natural end,
The sensitive contentment,
Missing from the instants.

Will not do this,
Never ask again for favours,
For new collaborations,
Satellite costs shared by us,
You're on your own,
Guessing my mind, my heart,
My plans for you now hidden,
In no interest, no contract,
No adventures far away.

You'd sells arms to relatives,
Make money from their conflicts,
And stand back distracted,
By the dollars in your hand,
Until they balance dislike,
And turn to you for reparations,
Their Weimar, treaty in hand,
Detailing their future in revenge,
For a new war.

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