Armageddon is what we're dreading.
The fire, smoke, brimstone.
The lives we're saving,
Then depriving,
Will boil us to our bones.
We see us bleed.
We see us need.
The patchwork will unfold.
We see them plead,
We need to read.
Learn to devalue all the gold.
Can we plan to refuse a tan?
Desire the nature to a true.
Can we stand all hand-in-hand,
And agree the sky is blue.
Our fingers clad with blisters.
The rebellious Miss and Misters.
The slivers of quotes,
And mis-antidotes of all we can conceive.
Taxes for roads.
Then pay the tolls.
Cost of commutation,
Tree for a pole.
Some tires were never meant to roll.
The fraudulent sponge,
Needs the loyal rock.
The dirty soul,
In a clean sock.
The barometer of mediocrity,
Allows the feeding frenzy.
Or reading the Bible while under water,
Will still make your vision hazy.
Who will write the poetry of perfection?
Galloping with a muse.
Or is that just another form
Of lucid abuse?
Forgiveness and retaliation.
The soldier and nurses's station.
The phobia and the cure.
The pure love,
Of being unsure.
The real talk of sinning,
Is not knowing what you're giving.
Or the last man standing
Will be a mortician.
�2003 Daniel J Harris