The Myriad of Voices,
towering Babel,
packages rustling
as trays teeter towards tables;
Friday Night sights,
Friday Night fights
as the YoungBloods strut
in their finest street apparel
with logos blazing
and hungry Eyes
gazing crazily
at the skinny jeans,
at the chaotic scene
that lies before them
in incandescent splendor,
like pre-pubescent Witches of Endor
luring them,
leading them on
without knowing,
unaware what they show,
roses that lose their bloom
long before they grow,
wilted on the vine,
vinegar from wine...
Teach your Children,
indeed,
or listen to the screams
till your ears bleed
for not only
Reap what you Sow
you have to watch
the crops you raise grow
or does your field lie fallow?...
Aug. 28, 2015
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