Rock, Paper, Scisor

Someday, the whole thing –
the entire huge, gleaming,
blinking-in-the-night edifice
to a god-who-doesn’t-exist
will come crashing to the ground
in a heap of molten dreams,
and burn away the cobblestones from underfoot.
There will be tears – have no doubt –
wailing and gnashing of teeth,
cats and dogs together in the street,
and poets on every street corner,
wild-eyed and berets aflame,
screaming into the smoke and wreckage
I told you so a million times over
the pen is mightier than the
junk bond; MP3 player; invisible web
save those of hungry spiders.

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Poetry, photos, musing

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