A Different Flow Of Indifference.... Poem by RIC BASTASA

inside the room are
the carnivorous kind.

outside it is cold as
it is winter time.

something inside makes
them all feel hot...and
so they undress themselves,
tired of their clothing, and
even underwear, too tight
for their fitting, hurting
their turgid skins.

i am surprised why they hate
wine and shy away from the rest
of the celebrators of the season.

outside the songs are being sung.
the dances dance, and the camaraderie
of hands are touching bones.

there are mad men and the madness is kept
to the certain level of tolerance.
society is a head shaker. Hands bound.
Minds closed. The winds of change are
laughing, too advanced for the age of
hardened men.And so the babies are not
born. The plow and sickle rusted.