They broke your leg in several places
A mean and grievous injury.
Keeping you from doing
What you need and want to do.

Of course it made you angry.
It was totally uncalled for,
Suddenly creating chaos.

Mad as Hell, you armed yourself
And stomped across the way
To gather retribution.

You planned to **** them every one,
Knock down their house
And those around it.
The taste of vengeance in your mouth
You leveled everything that stood.

You sent them madly scattering
First here and in a panic, there
And chased them into distant corners
There to slaughter them like rats.

That made your leg feel better.
ljm

One half of the world is on fire
The other half’s drowning in mud.
The crows are attacking the chickadees
And the roses were lost in the flood

The wheels of goodness spin backward
And evilness rules on TV
The lemmings are running in circles
While the cliffside erodes to the sea.

Thousands of prayers go unanswered
And nobody understands why
The ground that we stand on abhors us
And darkness is filling the sky

The one who might save us is failing
And nobody covers his back
There isn’t much hope for tomorrow
He will be replaced by a hack.
ljm

Certainly the brashest child in the family
Not the oldest, by far, nor the youngest either
But the one who ended up on center stage
When the lights came up on the century.

Big brother to most of the younger ones
In squabbles with some of the nearby ones.
And sometimes not willing to play with the neighbors.
Who were often friendly and usually needy
Of help in some kind of form or another.

Shaking hands across vast distance
Finding reasons to feel the same
Playgroups were formed to rebuild the playhouses
After the bullies had knocked them all down

Reveling in luxury not always entitled
Exporting ideals not followed at home
Growing fat and complacent with what it produces
And sometimes self righteous and greedy for more.

Some say they sense twilight and see the stars dimming
The weather will **** us they shout to deaf ears
The playground divided into blues and crimsons
And lost sight of the goal line in quest for a win.

The maggots all swarmed on the beefiest cut
Rotting under the hot lights of justice
Not enough brooms could be had by the voters
To manage to somehow clean up such a mess.

Teetering on the sharp edge of destruction
The clock reaches midnight and bells start to toll
But is it the weather that going to **** us
Or some human weapon the powerful chose.
ljm