Angels dance upon a page,
But never has a human sage
Tamed a flea, nor holy ghost
To dance on pins; despite their boasts.
Better then to needle kids
To dream what grown-ups self-forbid:
Crushing hopes to lubricate
The gears of wealth, with blood from hate.
Someday soon they'll put away
Their Bibles—skin and hair all grey—
Drinking lemonade alone,
Without a thing they need atone.
Smoothing out the Sunday news,
They'll blankly stare, before they snooze.
Waking up at dark, their deck
A pedestal. They'll crane their neck,
Watching stars adrift at night,
And think of all the foolish sights
Never seen, for fear to stray
Beyond the bounds of proper play.
Once they saw the sky as youths
As blank, distracting them from truth;
Now they see it stays the same
And serves as cause, not source of blame.
“On Tuesday morning, Omar Thornton, a driver for Hartford Distributors, went on a shooting rampage during a morning shift change, and then killed himself, police say... Joanne Hannah, a former neighbor of Thornton whose daughter had dated him, also told the Courant that Thornton, who is black, had complained about racial harassment at work and that his superiors had refused to address his complaint.”
– Amanda Paulson, Christian Science Monitor, August 3, 2010
http://www.csmonitor.com/USA/2010/0803/Report-alleged-Hartford-Distributors-shooter-claimed-racial-harassment
Return to Toylit
Subscribe in a reader
