Unpublished pieces

I smell the venom in the pit,
the bitter pill of defeat.
Children racing through
the roses; undetermined
to be the best. Laughing,
playing, unchallenged
by ambition.

I hear the evil in the box,
the nasty game of "get-along".
Children, conformed by
their betters, no longer
racing; now
cascading into
portraits of their

I sense the end of time,
the wrapping of the mind.
Young people, controlled
in their ambitions.
Rushing, not breathing,
suit and ties
and monopoly games.

I cry the end of brilliance,
the warping of creativity.
Children, compelled
to end their games.
Now playing at
Yearning, burning
to go back.

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jimtwocrows's picture

What's it all for?huh? I

What's it all for?huh? I guess we never get the right answer because we have to struggle so hard just to live, to fit a niche.