Tuesday, January 12, 2010

and I need to write, I need to write, I need to write to be right and have rites and rights

Biting the hand that feeds you is often the outcome of starvation. In an attempt to nourish the soul the boy bit the preacher. The cops came and the children cried. Most, said they were appalled at his actions while they placed 30% in the bucket to buy freedom. Knowing they were going to make the trip, they smile and turn it skyward at the confusion. Please stand quietly at the back and don’t smoke. My best and worst can be measured and never forgotten. Still hungry the child cries. His mother comforts him and offers to take him to the circus. A slight difference in message and costume, but much like before, today will change nothing.

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