At the risk of boring you with another of these so soon, this one was actually interesting to me because I have no idea what brought me to it. I was in and out of sleep for awhile before it “arrived”.
All over the Earth they plunder with mirth,
they steal and they waste what they hunt.
The bellicose masses – those angry jackasses –
what more could they possibly want?
I’m not much for poetry. I rarely read it and even more rarely care to write it. For me, it requires a different mode than “constructing a tale.” It’s only when it comes into my head from nowhere that I feel it’s worth half a damn to write. I fail at any attempt to create it at will.
What does it mean? Well, it’s not particularly subtle. I suppose it’s a reflection of my overall anger at the greed and strife in the world, but I’m not much of a bleeding heart type, either. Sure, world peace would be great, but I won’t be holding my breath …
As I head deeper into my thirties (my birthday is coming very soon), my cynicism and quiet resignation are balancing out to about equal.