A Future Foretold
the madman stands
with clutching hands
and shakes Eliot’s geranium
what you hold
has been foretold
but he just stared distantly
at the void
and a vacuous comment
slipped like mist
over the trees, the height
of conversation
- such a vacuous nation –
fools, cads and in moral poverty
what does the future hold?
or does it just shake
the geranium?
what have you been told
of days of old?
it’s the day of new
where hope serves few
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