The good suffer,
The evil flourish,
And all that is mortal passes away

I hear the toll**
   *  Screaming through dry space
  Cracked and fragmented as my own face
Is the sound of fate
      That tolling
  Rolling and rolling
   Stopping and strolling
  Making its way nonetheless
        It played
      Hot and decayed
    Metallic song frayed
       Etching my bones in its stress
I stared at length
        My eyes unhinged
  Bathing in revelation
        The heat subsided
   As I realized
I was the sound's destination
      I layed down cold and did as told
And never asked anything
It was within myself the Fate Bell tolled
With an ever rising ring

Take this kiss upon the brow!
And, in parting from you now,
Thus much let me avow—
You are not wrong, who deem
That my days have been a dream:
Yet if hope has flown away
In a night, or in a day,
In a vision or in none,
Is it therefore the less gone?
All that we see or seem
Is but a dream within a dream.

I stand amid the roar
Of a surf-tormented shore,
And I hold within my hand
Grains of the golden sand—
How few! yet how they creep
Through my fingers to the deep
While I weep—while I weep!
O God! can I not grasp
Them with a tighter clasp?
O God! can I not save
One from the pitiless wave?
Is all that we see or seem
But a dream within a dream?

His Down's Syndrome makes
His age a tough guess, I'll
Say eight to ten.

Wide eyes on machines,
Ice cream dripping on the
Pavement outside the

Construction site.
I wanna work like this when
I grow up, he says in

Young enthusiasm to a mother
Whose eyes well up with
Gratitude when I approach

And kneel down in front of
Him. So you want a job,
Buddy? I ask him with a

Wink. He suddenly remembers
His ice cream and bites into
It shyly. Nods, glancing at the

Tools in my belt, the scratches
On my arms, the brick wall
I've been attacking with a

Wacker jackhammer. Nods
Again. Well, I'll see you in a
Few years, I say with another

Wink, this time to his mother,
Who'd look her young age if
Her eyes weren't as tired,

But you can start with this
And get some practice. I hand
Him my Stanley Fat Max

Hammer. His ice cream
Hits the ground as he
Recieves it with both hands,

Looking to his mother for
Confirmation that it's ok.
Oh, it is. She mouths a

Thank you SO much...
They walk away, his chatter
High pitched and fading

Around the corner. And I
Head over to the foreman to
Report that I lost my hammer.

Don't ever employ me.
I can work a good game, but
I'm too soft around little heroes.

Blast it!
We've put our eggs
in the wrong basket,
and now Little Liberty has dropped them.

She's dropped them.
She's dropped them!
She certainly did,
She dropped them!

Each egg splits, cracks, breaks,
all despite Liberty's bleeding
colors. Faded, young
hatching prematurely;
before their time.

Liberty heard her love-
boyish ruckus in The Bush.
Hurriedly she did run;
giving all her aide.
Unfortunately, careless Liberty did not see:
All our eggs are handled irresponsibly.

Soon after little Liberty's Bush date,
she saw what she could only surmount to fate:
Poster slapped to said Holy Tree,
plastered with Allah's face.
Hating those jihadist anyway,
Ignorant Liberty unloaded her bounty-
upon the sacred man's face.  

It took a while
till Liberty thought,
looking down,
but by then,
we all thought it all too late.
But ,Little Liberty being supreme,
(totally Grade A,)
finally remembered to put the lid down.
Ah, now that should seal our fate,
her reasoning as she bounced and pranced away.

But just before she reached her people,
her sickness burst,
her pride was shook,
she couldn't show her face.
Afraid of what her people might say-
she reopened said lid, state of panic
flipped the basket promptly 'round.
All the little eggs crumbling to the ground.

Babies dispersed;
Children burnt and broken;
not to mention all the vital yolk;
nasty stuff and what a mess-
now onward to face my people.

But all is well;
she gives her spiel
about the alleged evil-doers.
People line-up,
hypnotized-
ready to give their last;
service, duty, and loyalty too
all for Little Miss Liberty.

Quite the siren, ain't she?