pasts misremembered are the story's heart
we tell ourselves the tale and are appeased
but in the end our hearts are never eased
we think it whole but know it only part
the stream was tainted from the very start
we did the things that satisfied and pleased
and even when the bill came never ceased
our lives became mere matter for the mart
the truth is we accomplished all our deeds
not for our freedom but simply to survive
and spread a glamour over the dying past
still that could not satisfy our urgent needs
what's deemed dead may one day revive
and its dread shadow over futures cast
Odd ravings, comments, and other wastes of time. Some are in plain prose, yet others are in rhyme.
06 April 2007
the meaning of history
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