Fencing

A roll of fencing

Lies dormant in my back yard;

It sits and it wonders why

It left its post at the gate.

And it cries out in pain from

The rust it now carries

From years of rotting 'neith

Many volleys of rain.

It knows where it will be

Not many days from now,

As the bed of the truck is empty

And it will be transported somehow.

But I can see clearly the

Landscape it once blocked,

And I wondered why I hadn't

Removed it long before.

Eulogy to Wanderlust

When time began to rip a hole inside

Of all the men on Earth, he left a want

Within the brain which once had been kept warm

The men, unknowing (now the race). A track

Of steel was forced into his skull, without

The proper guide to fill the void, forlorn.

And now the body cries in pain of loss

In something known as wanderlust, which had

Been fed in times before. We starve, adorned.

And slowly, pain will die away just like

The dogs that Pavlov trained; we'll drool at the

Small sound, an echo which doth resonate, worn

And tired. For it has traveled long and far

To come to sit where seats can not be found

Any longer. And who denies the right to sit?

Our damned society.