Richard Jarboe Poems

Business as usual will be coming back soon,
Say goodbye to the sun, say goodbye to the moon,
The sky over China will disappear,
And India will re-polute by the end of the year.
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Nothing to fear but fear itself,
Fear itself is nothing to fear,
Nothing to fear but fear itself,
Fear itself is nothing to fear.
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It ain't none of my business,
But you sure look good to me,
Tell me if you will,
Who your handler be?
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Cigarettes,
Lottery tickets,
And Beer.
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Still, you're born alone,
Still, you die alone,
Still, you try to fit in.
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Selling cigarettes sell doubt of the hurt,
Selling sugar sell doubt of dessert,
Selling anything sell doubt about health,
Selling hedge funds sell doubt about wealth.
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Should you shoot back, should you shoot back, should you shoot?
When the truth is you are under attack, should you shoot back?
Should you shoot the shooter, should you shoot?
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You got to do a lot, if you want to be on top of the heap
You got to learn to stop, if you know you're a flop on your feet
Knowing you're going nowhere, knowing you're blowing hot air
On top of the heap.
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Eating disorder, or is it?
It's eat or be eaten, you can't miss it,
That's the order of the disorder,
Hooked to a food chain, or should I say food train.
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Thick phantoms of wonder,
All mysteries rip,
Return with composure,
From their seasonal trip.
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