Poems from the Blue Casket
A/N: Yes, the next beatnik poem is here. Enjoy.
The betting closes,
And we enter the roulette table
Waiting for fate to be decided,
Money passed over, as those who are able
Move on to the next step
To their eventual resting place,
But we all stay- why walk
If you can't keep up the pace?
Some stopped before they even began,
Unable to move as a web is spun,
Lies, treachery, conning, deceit,
Until they stare down the barrel of a sproutella gun.
But then, why not?
After all, revolutionary times do not always call
For revolutionary measures.