Chairman
Fish's
Big
Red
Book
|
Terrified
pterodactyl flapping
around,
Looking for her stamping ground,
Seeking guidance, sight or sound,
But finding nothing there around,
Which eased her aching need,
For communion.
Using native wit and inborn skill,
But without familiar prey to kill,
Circling, seeking, searching still,
Her burning wish she can't fulfil,
So, through prayer, she offers up,
Primordial supplication.
Should I become extinct today,
And join my siblings in their play,
In limbo's joy they've found their way,
Will non-being keep my pain at bay,
Remove at last my fear,
Of destruction.
Terrified pterodactyl flapping around,
Looking for her stamping ground,
Seeking guidance, sight or sound,
But finding nothing there around,
Which eased her aching need,
For communion.
Be warned, my friends, from aeons past,
Tomorrow's world, once
small, is vast,
Once here, each breath, may be, your last,
Out of time you'll be outcast,
To me to be or not to be,
Finally's the question.
No progress, then, since Shakespeare's
scene,
So, each age shouts its primal scream,
As youths we had a differing dream,
And now the more I know it seems,
I can't connect with any of this,
Insane generation.,
©
Stefan Lewis-Fish (16 January 1999)
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