The Crime of Time
Time not only Yesterday changes
But Tomorrow rearranges,
The innocence of unborn babies tainting,
Their celebratory virgin spirit tilting:
A new-born able to screen from passers-by Its nudity
Faster than Adam did after his stupidity.
Time keeps obliging us with coarsened silk
While during us towards a Canaan of sour milk
We’d better we had a dietician justify
And the safety of Its consumption certify…
In the past it was
That Angels would be on Earth for a cause
partly to interact with Mortal Man
And whenever possible drink from his can
But chiefly God’s telegram hand him
Between the very clear and the a-bit-dim,
Fundamentally happy tidings
Or to, Embittered Hagar some bidding…
Then, God’s Seventh Heaven was a bit taller
Than the highest mountains with peaks duller,
Wherefore goose pimples from the heavens broke out,
When the already longish Babel still aimed to thrust out
The prelude to God’s multiplication of tongues
And unleashing of the confusion emanating from lungs.
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