Thursday, August 12, 2021

poemling four

Darkness, ours, is not our own
Nor are the hours of the day.

The eye and mind give no respite
To ills throughout this Worldly World.

And all the teeth are meekly gnashed,
And all the mundane tortures spread around.

The day endured in ordinary ways,
Ignoring everyone with all our might.

A world on fire, full of upright chimps,
So vain to think that they can truly think.

Featherless bipeds sulking in their cars,
Imagine future days that cannot be.

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I am the author of 5 books: Android Down, Firewood for Cannibals, The Cubicles of Madness, Robot Stories, and most recently, Various Meats and Cheeses. I live and write in Michigan. My website is at