Of Face and Phases
People change.
The beggars randomly scorn the commoners
When refused a beg,
And solemnly retreat to their
Dejected lives, waiting for another expedition..
The obnoxious fact that
Men control their fates,
And women control their mates,
All are portentous assumptions
To relieve the baffled human soul
From another.
We wish there were trees
Huge enough to shadow over our sins,
Then perhaps, a certain recluse
Cant be blamed,
Unless found detained to a bark.
When friends are supposed to be friends
And enemies the same,
There is no difference:
As the setting sun puts out the light of the world
Technology blooms, like a goblin
We seem to be lost in neon lights,
Smoke, drugs, parties....panties
That is the rarity itself.
The odd mother unable to feed her children,
The kittens dying under the shade
The grandmas and grandpas living like a ghost, alone, for days
The sun comes up again,
Feeling bright and bringing a 'new day'.
Nothing changes
The face, maybe, not the phases.
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