though aiming forward we are losing groundhearts may be filled with hope but our hard fateis to be weighed and valued pound by poundas the remainders of a great estatethe counters' duty it is to collatewhat goes to storage and what to the wormwhat will be buried to build up the bermand what parts of the fortune they might keepthose who are watching are the very firmour place is taken and we have to sleepso much of what is said is to confoundthe ones whose task it is to count and ratethe complete measure within proper boundthey aren't allowed to lie nor to inflatethe tiny parcels into something greatbut must agree the winner is the germthat strikes the mighty hard as they might squirmand into every corner seems to creepit's certain victory we can't affirmour place is taken and we have to sleepwe wanted to astonish and astoundwin the reward of gold and silver platehave banknotes piled up in a giant moundcart off bright jewels in a well-made cratethese are not the conditions we instatewe find ourselves most rotten and infirmunable now to generate a thermnor over lowest bar ever to leapour weakness any fool now could confirmour place is taken and we have to sleepprince you may rule us for a certain termsince none of us has power to reaffirmjust what we were nor what we had to keepwithin our power nor underneath each dermour place is taken and we have to sleep
Odd ravings, comments, and other wastes of time. Some are in plain prose, yet others are in rhyme.
06 December 2008
aiming forward losing ground
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