Listening to loud Middle
Class Rut, wishing I
could run away to
their fields of play.
Some things are simple,
blare with clarity,
and they’re impossible.
Listening to loud Middle
Class Rut, wishing I
could run away to
their fields of play.
Some things are simple,
blare with clarity,
and they’re impossible.
American Culture, Day Job, Depression, Failure, Idealism, Isolation, Middle Class Rut, Poems, Poetry
This entry was posted on December 16, 2013, 9:11 pm and is filed under Poems. You can follow any responses to this entry through RSS 2.0. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.
Blog: |
Stillfugue |
Topics: |
Fiction, Poetry, Essays |
#1 by clinock on December 18, 2013 - 9:05 pm
Another Carl Koan…I must retire into my shell and cogitate…
#2 by Carl on February 25, 2014 - 1:15 pm
Good koans require a good pipe. Thank you for reading, and sorry for my tardy response. I appreciate your comments greatly!
#3 by Carl D'Agostino on December 24, 2013 - 1:13 pm
That middle class is evaporating quickly. Merry Christmas.
#4 by Carl D'Agostino on January 19, 2014 - 4:41 pm
Some things are simple,
blare with clarity,
and they’re impossible.
That sure is indicative of a great deal in life yet doesn’t even tough the really hard stuff.