turned into anger.
The great secret of our age.
Hiding out between the lines where
those communications rage.
We never rant.
Instead, we create raves.
Mysterious, the waves of air
are quivering in fear.
That ugliness, so far way
is always drawing nearer.
The over-ripened fruit falls from the tree.
The students study weird geometry.
While after school, they live the irony.
'Cause mama's doing daddy's job.
There's no one home to keep
the mob at bay. While daddy seeks
his truth around a corner of a street
that goes nowhere. It started long ago,
within a movement ever seeking liberation.
It backfired as it burned across
the greed of generations.
Fast food turning to disease.
No one there to fill their needs.
Disparate peer groups seeking their demise.
An emptiness is blossoming inside.
Where love of hearth and home
used to reside...
? Michaelette ?
Copyright© 2005 Michaelette L. Romano
All Rights Reserved
Take me home . . .