They are called Humanity,
Mankind, or Man, including all,
reproduction was mostly binary,
was studied, with dollars finery,
lashed and lipped and, double-dipped,
it precluded reason, in all Earth’s seasons,
it was the primal law.

Succinctness, of interest’s sake,
undoes…platonic race, until a balance
can be found. For a while, balance can be found.
But, then the Law, comes reeling back,
half the planet, hooked on godly-fact, regardless
of drug-ed state, this world seems
run on hate.

The weeping, of mother’s birth,
undone, the evil’s won, it’s taken
the hearts of normal folk and left
wisdom’s empty spoke. It’s quiet now…

Wondering, what it all means, seeking
a pasture scene, seeing, the ways and means
while humanity, holds it breadth,
and fights on, a goalless quest,
one day, we’ll be at peace, one day
we’ll have surcease,
one day, after
I cease
…

it’s quiet, now.

Erin Moen
7/8/03
Copyright 2003 ©