This new nation has a morning

unlike the others

in world time,

sun waiting to rise

with it’s silver keel,

on the shining shores

among the old ways.

In a world play,

the companies are sunday papers

we bundle and throw at the door

then dispose of with the kitchen trash,

it didn’t matter,

they’re good for the day.

Did you sleep, in the new way?

The door closed but not,

the job open but not

same as the other lack luster labor

no need to advertise the same.

The world sings

about the sameness, the shameness

roots cut off and burned,

Keep the door closed,

we knew the outcome, but

didn’t expect this.

 I thought I’d simply.

dlb

6 Oct 08

World Thoughts

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