Tuesday, September 20, 2011


The demise of such great kingdoms
Nobody ever truly wants to see
As the last log of the forest rolls out on a flatbed truck
Every last thing, remnant, and echo of what once was
Is obliterated, swept asunder in this contemporary dementia
The compulsive activities that were once adored
Become Little more than a tragic opera
That I’ve come to memorize
Word for word,
Line for line,
In the childishness of a rerunning cartoon where each syllable,
can be repeated emulating a faceless voice-actor
Because loving strays is as charitable.
Still obsessive in pursuit
that I often recall when thinking of how far I’ll be able to get
with one monetary unit, contemplating it’s significance
harboring the power to bring empires to their knees
one friendship at a time
one vanity manifested
one impossible dream pursued
friendships implode, love dies, dreams evaporate   
I wonder often
When the last tree falls, will we use it’s timber to build homes
Or make paper?
Or, will it be used as a battering-ram
to knock in the gates of our enemies?
will we all die alone with the illusion that there was someone there for us?
a simple lie that we deluded ourselves with
if only to find a fleeting comfort
in a world where nobody ever got what they wanted

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