Learning The Games Of This World Poem by RIC BASTASA

good men don't fall down
permanently as bad men don't stay that high
on top by reason of
their devices
permanently

in fact there is nothing permanent
without which
this world becomes absurd
like marble that cannot roll and spin

games will always be there
for as long as our eyes stay young like budding
blossoms

there is no one here who is permanently poor
and dumb
everyone learns to experience that pain and
opens like some bleeding hands

hearts that erupt from deep volcanic sleep
and covers a well lighted city at night
turning into a forest with all its trees devastated
in a new world of
all oceans

our eyes see nothing but a covered table
no spoons and plates
chairs tumbling down like mass execution