Tim caffery (02/09/1978 / San Fernando Valley, Los Angeles, CA)

The sun will rise just one more time
Before we enter two thousand nine
A year undreamed
With what schemes
What goals are set
Plots devised
To what end determination fed,
Prophesied or projected
What will come to pass
Yet be stopped

Will war prevail
Who's war
The war of death to humans
Or the invasion of a system
Who forfeits life
and who's
For what cause
Are graves dug
Regular ol' graves
Or smaller
A couple of feet
Tiny feet
Bare or shooed
Sent away to the shallow graves

The graves of two thousand nine
Will the surpass those of 'oh eight' ('08)
Does it matter to try
And care
Enough to weep
Are those little graves
Just accessories
To the real graves
The real dead
The enemies
Those people who will cease
To be
To see two thousand ten
To visit those little graves
Probably hidden away
Unmarked like the headlines
No declaration of pro-life
In anti-war
Anti-what was it

How much could you yell
To declare
You know about the little graves
The little ones
That are thousands
Of grains of sand buried
In the Earth
Being turned to oil
Too crude
Is it crude
to yell for them
Does young blood make better fuel
Refined by silence
Or ignited
By the sparks of life flickering out

12/31/08