Untitled III

pictures of
children
          falling  falling
   (listen to the sounds
they never made)
   and death
obstruction  destruction
   which is worse
in this dark time
          time is precious
   (if you make a living
          growing apples)
   and cries from liars
          in puddles of their own
   (creation)
who would have
          could have
   thought it might turn out
          like this

   intolerance
for people  places  things
   but i have the right to choose
          i forget to exercise
            that right
   i'm on the ground
          being trampled on
by a thousand different versions
          of myself
until i forget i'm taking it
          lying down
and i believe i'm having the time
   (of my life)
this is the way it's meant to be
          hide  hide
   (that silence will never
              find me)

i'm not angry at the world around me
i'm angry at myself for being part of it

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All poetry copyright 1998 by Argentum Publishing