Blowing in the w/c....
If for a second your opining's matters
there are but to yourselves
for do the skies gaze wistfully for shelter
when the sun heats up a storm
ubiquitous minds grazing in echo chambers
but to hear their resounding dins
for in emptiness volume is the usurpers finding homes
and log fires for burdened nonentities
in markets of the unknowns words are cheapest cargoes
raining prodigiously from raw fevered minds
there're trillions of stars in the universe of here and everywhere
but most are too dim to be noticed or viewed
orators talk words but who guarantees that words don't talk orators
here's chin-chin to the unhinged in the gutters of cheap speech