A POEM

I haven't felt like blogging much lately, so here is a poem:

PRIMITIVE TIMES

                It’s strange, there’s only one

                room in the house where

                you can piss or take a crap.

                I long for more primitive times

                when you could piss in the

                river or dig a hole to take a

                crap, when you could

                chop down trees to build

                a fort and kill animals

                with a spear. I long for the

                taste of fresh red meat that

                I kill myself. The truth

                is I’m growing old, and I

                long for anything

                but this.

-- Roger

© Copyright 2011, Roger R. Angle