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Enter Poem or Quote (Required)Required All In The Name Of "Progress" The wrecking ball long since demolished boyhood house zen located at 324 Level Road, a once nonagricultural, pastoral, rural residence, which soulful yen I called home while veritably sequestered, quarantined, positioned... sprawled atop spaciously shingled roof countless years (B)efore (C)ovid-19 scanning distant horizon for unsuspecting barenaked lady, perhaps said goo goo doll sunbathing catching rays while maybe listening courtesy iPod to WXPN one among several favorite stations of mine one hotmail (male) buzzfeeding avast fancy feast home sweet home since February 28th, 1968, when Boyce and Harriet Harris deceased parents then at their prime both transplanted Brooklyn Borough citified folks, hankered to escape urban jungle quickly acclimated livingsocial in the country. Aforesaid domain didst span, once assumed, encompassed, incorporated one hundred plus acre wooded estate (analogous to fictional land inhabited by Winnie-the-Pooh and his friends) listed in national register as "Glen Elm", where ran woodland surrounding a golden pond favored by Canadian Geese, but under game plan of commercial developer Donald Neilson (a tall lumbering "all business no play doh" man. Soon after aforementioned builder/realtor bought expansive land blueprints soon drafted for an army of vinyl city exemplifying Little boxes on the hillside ditty Little boxes made of ticky tacky...gritty material upending wildlife refuge, ah...what a pity. Impossible mission to stop industrialization, the das capital way spurring thy preferential longing for nature preservation oye vey, and to make a million bucks in USA if land left off limits for propertied class today then in the near future, an aggressive builder will sashay confirming prophecy scooping up gobs of profit out maneuvering competition analogous to a marathon relay race quickly witnessing little boxes to sprout all the same by construction workers, hired brawny hands to maximize American middle class dream asper buying affordable home nailing steady income, viz all work and no play, after acquiring a mortgage to outlay which prospective homeowner doth figuratively hammer away. Their choices limited indeed maybe there's a green one and a pink one and a blue one and yellow one, how zing free enterprise, and they're all made out of ticky tacky held together on a wing and prayer they all look just the same sporting lawn anticipating family with young children ready to play kiddy game such as: Ring-a-ring-a-rosies A pocketful of posies A tissue, a tissue We all fall down The king has sent his daughter To fetch a pail of water A tissue, a tissue We all fall down The robin on the steeple Is singing to the people A tissue, a tissue We all fall down The wedding bells are ringing The boys and girls are singing A tissue, a tissue We all fall down.
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