Ode to a Cataract

Oh you dark spot That clouds my vision A demon of sight The warden of my gray prison Floating endlessly before my gaze an evil specter of future days I curse thee! I call thee out! The road less traveled? Is that what its about? “To see or not to see” echoes of the modern

Midnight’s Somber Dream

The curtain’s up the lights are on I stand upon the stage The crowds are there applause is rich I’m unsure of my own age I was younger but not so old it’s really such a blur Quoting text and making jest emotions I must stir “Out damn spot!” and “Goodnight sweet Prince” and other

Ode to a Postmodern Child

Critics good and critics bad, critics bright and critics dim, critics modern and critics post— traffic in articulation, profess to be our salvation. He-s and she-s just like me, perhaps, with great responsibilities. For with their words, which are many, they mold and shape our thoughts, though few, mindless folk without a clue. De-centered, De-constructed,

Violence is Blue

Reality is the rage See it all for free Buy this, buy that All for a very small fee Love Sex Hormones, pheromones Flowing, going All on Reality TV Guns and Roses Pansies and Pinks Mindless people watch Survivors? So they think! Death Violence On TV Buy this, buy that The market drives it All