[NicknamedBob]

Hmmm. Let's try this one...



Numbers


The world is what the world is,
You can’t make it perfect.
You can’t make it safe.
You can’t make it make sense.

If you live an average life,
Half the people that you come to know,
And love,

Will die,

Before you do.

This is a statistic. You can check it out.
It’s just numbers at work.
The cold equations.
Numbers at work.

Numbers.

Numb.

Nobody said that Life was fair.
One thing we know for sure.
Death is not fair.

It may be equal,
But it isn’t fair.

Young children shouldn’t die.
Healthy young adults shouldn’t die.

Old people, who have seen too much of sadness,
And have grown weary of the torment,
May welcome uninterrupted sleep.

But I’m getting tired of it.


NicknamedBob . . . . April 29, 2004

[Army Air Corps]

Most of the beatnik stuff that I have read is like this:

Velvet swirls
on the cosmic monkey

Howl!

Where is my rhubarb?
I beat a rythm on the dashboard
but the blind man cannot smirk.

I bought a tangerine
but it tasted of pennies
and I blew out the candle.

[Harmless Teddy Bear]

:Tries to snap fingers:

That was boo-te-ful. I still want to know when you are going to publish a book of poetry.