I have seen the best kinds of madness
destroyed by my generation:
all strange chaotic magic stilled
in the great press of conformity’s
graveyard silent stare,
all tangents pruned before they fruit,
left in the harsh day’s sun to wither;
all brave ideals, like beach sand,
swept out into a sea of doubt;
all savage and bewildered strength,
enough to change a planet’s course,
seduced into self-destruction,
enslaved to spin a hamster’s wheel
or worse, to fabricate ennui.
17 MAY 2012
