Blazing beams of fire flies,
flutter viciously past my eyes.
Summer night's air is ripe with
the scent of swamp.

Frogs freak dance croak-
S'pload toad throat soak-
In time with the slug slime,
slithering in the dark.

In the wet grass it died,
shoved off the pavement to the side-
where the cars whizzed by close
As its guts dripped from its nose.

Its death was more than grim
And it did not die by spear for meat
But as it bounded across the street
The choice was me or him.

What do I want out of life?
What do you want?
Why do you bother asking me?
If I had an answer, to that
particular question, would I be here?

I became disatisfied with my life-
just about three years ago-
when I realized I had done
just about everything (I thought)
I was destined to do.

And now, I wander
instead of wonder.
Now, I parade
instead of plan.
Now, I accept
rather than achieve.
Now, I tolerate
instead of try.

At least you relate
when I cry.

this head presses back against the soft cushion of my chair
a sideways tilted chin and a face is bathed in the harsh glow
of a computer monitor while the evening hours dwindle
toward the morning din of people doing what they do to
live this life of exchange

and exchanges are made
we exchange free time for work and
work for money and money for consumables

we exchange lust for love
we exchange love for a cool friendship
and friendships for social networking

we exchange truth for the satisfaction of judgments
and justice is exchanged for speedy process
and process is exchanged for the bottom line

and while the virtues of Jesus Christ are
exchanged for the vices of Machiavelli
Mother Mary is only a lyric in a song by
a group of bugs and the devil applauds.