Sort Of Compliance.... Poem by RIC BASTASA

guess you must have noticed
that for the past few days this little world has been sick

nausea as they name it has attacked the
borders of creativity

but just the same the eyes have to wake up
as a matter of habit

and the hands continue to grapple with the keys
pressing the words

sometimes the words themselves ask if they are really necessary
for this morning's attempts

the mind does not explain
everything must go and each must have a function of this certain

compliance. As days go by, there must be at least a line or two
along the doorway

Know Thyself. In fact it takes only two words
to complete what we sometimes call as the responsibility of compliance.