Robert L. Bixler III
Poem by Robert L. Bixler III
In plain gaze, sight to see,
The social circle has been drawn.
Aperture, where everyone wants to be,
Is the place for a simple pawn.
Every degree of personality
Can be rationed from this pi.
From pure zero to degree of ninety,
Alphas to epsilons, here they lie.
This circle made perfect recipe
For variety in the intellectual lawn,
Yet neo-liberalism alters, measuredly,
All to an equal until individuality is gone.
From pupil to straight laced, linear intensity
Allows for only seeing with one eye.
Only one idea, amongst all, has propensity:
Bottled fed from birth till, one day, all die.
To achieve perfectly peaceful unison,
Do all have to sacrifice true comparison?
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