My Dire Tribe

I heartily disapprove
Of us as people.
Our so-called civ’lization’s
A slapping knee-full.
All noble leaders always
Turn to creepers
And our great women told
‘Be kitchen sweepers’.


Elites keep all the fresh fruit
For themselves
And lose no sleep o’er
Others’ empty shelves.

Where are the mobs
Of loving-hearted people,
Composite beast of
Marching in the streets?

When will the city’s hate
Be swept asunder and
All our many ills
Be washed away?

XperDunn -May 8th,'08

Nursery Explanations ****(A ’Post New’-style Nursery Rhyme)****

Star cradles gleaming,
Tachyons beaming,
Particles streaming,
Photons a-screaming;
That's what Outer Space is made of.

DNA Twining,
Erosion designing,
Each on each dining,
Timberlands pining:
That's what Mother Nature's made of.


XperDunn - May 10, '08