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Rated: E · Poetry · Cultural · #2224279
a short poem about the times
Shaken and Stirred

Out sitting in a tree with me.
I’m as old as old can be.
Roiling in the dust,
Thank you very much.
Because without you.
There wouldn’t be me.

Shaken and stirred to my core.
Our enemies think we’re at war.
They kneel on our necks.
Then sign us blank checks.
Expect we’ll forget,
But there’s more.

Every time we let off the gas.
Every time we get bit in the ass.
Fighting for what?
Some love and some trust?
Don’t touch this building.
Just pass.

Out standing in the street with my flame.
My people tell me to take aim.
But my heart isn’t in it.
I’m in it to win it.
But win what at what price?
Not a game.

So, I’m shaken and stirred to my core.
My new family thinks we’re at war.
We’ve made all these demands.
The do’s don’ts and cans.
We stay in the room.
We make plans.
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