“Where have all the children gone?”
Wait. Hesitate or “What’s a Luddite suppos’d to do?”
If all our stars are realligned the few
Who register approval hear the song,
While all the rest are caught in endless sleep. If right and wrong
Depend on numbers and wisdom on its devotées, the serpent in the queue
Itself provides the answer to the Sphinx; what is never seen, the clue:
The roll call amongst the deaf exceeds the number of the living.The throng,
The mob, their bliss in congress feeds on givens more than present appetite demands while someone pays the piper;
They always will, you know; it is the ancient promise of the latter day.
Did you believe
The King picks up the tab while you so freely lunched with your psychologist
And somehow missed the age-old sign upon the wall:
“Restricted” The misanthropist
Waiting tables finds comfort in his tips; the cleric, lips are his own private sniper.
Cell-phones in the square deter a tank or two, but rarely seen are thse who will succeed, who sooner either disappear or die while those who don’t are later forced …to bleed.