The rain falls down
Your hand in my pocket, warm,
Somehow we have to
Get ourselves out of the storm,
The umbrella comes between
The closeness that should
Forever be you and me.
It is not our grandparent’s
Wonderful life, we must be careful
Round here, to succeed, to survive.
Fires, they rage, so wild,
Out of control, gotta set up –
Some smoke control,
Breathing gets harder, exerts,
Until it almost sets up hurt,
Clouds on the horizon, but no,
It is the fire’s dark exhaust.
It is not our grandparent’s
Wonderful life, we must be careful
Round here, to succeed, to survive.
Screaming fills in the streets
One says this; another speaks that,
Someone with matches, pyromaniac fun,
The other has a gun in a pocket, heat,
That one has a knife in a boot, treat,
Control fled, no one knows how to live
Everyone is subject to being dead.
It is not our grandparent’s
Wonderful life, we must be careful
Round here, to succeed, to survive.
Your hand in my pocket,
Please do not let me go,
This world is a desolation,
Join me in the isolation
Check the windows, the doors,
No ingress for strangers
Can we now possibly afford.
It is not our grandparent’s
Wonderful life, we must be careful
Round here, to succeed, to survive.
Who have we finally become
Who cannot communicate,
Cannot show respect enough
To avoid a world that deteriorates?
Where did the love go, tell me,
We are all in this together,
If not, we will likely all fall.
It is not our grandparent’s
Wonderful life, we must be careful
Round here, to succeed, to survive.
© Jo Ann J. A. Jordan
Haphazard Creative 