People
For those I beheld with toll,
Half of them made a river,
Half a sea, half the honor to worship
And the other half a wish
To drown them.
People changed life, the old teacher observed.
So the lizard, riding back with the bellowing
Of a riddle, spare you a nickel,
Laughing on the faces,
For, instant, you balance to death.
Go open with unclearing skin,
Hate them not, because no hate
Will be enough for such thing;
Do the numbers, droning underneath
Who said that: "I'm different
From the blundered group,
That you or whoever was moldering scribbles,
Not plot shall tell,
From good return, some delight
From the same animals in hell."
Copyright © George Zamalea | Year Posted 2012
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