Of boredom born.
Enforced by gross repeated form.
The ticky-tacky boxes multiplied.
Alive within the darkness where
they always ran to hide.
Emotions seeping through the mesh
of smiles plastered on their flesh.
A turn of mind. They must believe
the agony would be relieved somehow.
By torturing the neighbors dog
while seething shapes escaped
into the walls. Turning all the air
into a gray and murky fog.
Surreal is not an easy place to be.
With magic running wild in mystic streams.
Containing all they could not understand.
A noxious gas was rising from the land
too long implanted by their greed.
Fads shrinking down to one alone.
Lot willed his wife to turn to Stone.
While he walked on within the grip of need.
Gathering her innocence to turn into
his seeds of virulence. Violent, the shock
waves tore another hole into the evermore.
While he denied responsibility.
Playing god. A modern phase.
Evoked by all the games they played.
If only they had learned to stay their hands.
Lightning flashed o'er barren fields
where once earth's bounty flowed.
Their facts and figures killed the graceful yield
of love that might have bloomed and spread
its quality across the land. They moved
into another house. They leased another tomb.
Forged within their father's womb.
A blast of mind destroying all the meaning.
A newborn fad. Of boredom born and bred.
Then floating in the void of time created
by too many minds
that lacked a heart and soul...
? Michaelette ?
Copyright© 2005 Michaelette L. Romano
All Rights Reserved
Take me home . . .