Wednesday, November 30, 2005

Gearing Up for January, Poems #3

No solicitor signs are
doors that close before
they can be opened.
Privacy the hallmark of
the modern scrooge that
finds it offensive to be asked
to give, assuages guilt by
saying they were interrupted
eating dinner, and not wanting
the world to intrude upon
their peaceful lie.



The bus charges money
For journeys, but
Does not accept pennies.
So I am left to wonder
What transports us to
The Land of the Dead
Now, and if
Two subway tokens have
Replaced the pennies, and
Line our pockets, and
Not our eyes.



Refuge

Old age is dressing up
In suits and ties, seeing
The modern world all
As the new world, a
Menagerie of lies, with
Sadness and sighs for those
Who wonder why we all
Seem dressed for our own funerals.

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