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A Poem 2001.03.03

By Wil C. Fry, March 3, 2001, 23:46

Copyright © 2001 by Wil C. Fry. All rights reserved.


We waver
Between sharing
And baring ourselves
Or just holding it in
Conforming to the outline
For society
When we’re told how to behave
How to do everything
And they may not come right out
And say it
But you know they mean it
So do you break away?
Do you boldly step out?
Do you spit on the President’s limousine?
And if you did, what would it mean?
Can you take a chance?
Will you refuse to dance?
When they play the dancing tune
Will you hand me the Moon?
On a filtered and organized platter
Maybe to you, it doesn’t really matter
And I’m not talking politics
I’m talking everything
Letting your soul take its wing
‘Cause there’s more to this life
Than a two-car garage

And a ray of light splits the expanded sky
A stone skips upon an unrippled mirror
A gurgling laughter that seems out of place
Erupting from the robot’s mouthpiece
Unsheltered longings from the heart now spurt
Flooding dry and forgotten solitude




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