This Is Our Time (From, Moderate Tempers) Poem by Peter S. Quinn

This is our time
Into each everything
Now's today's prime
Life's a real thing
Going to get along
On every cornered street
Something’s going wrong
With its rigged offbeat

This might go sleazy
Turning upside down
Someone to speakeasy
In this crowded town
Forward motions turning
Rising above ground
Today is not learning
To build on what it found

Temperatures and heartbeats
The feelings really are
Copestones and concrete
Slumming houses abattoir
Everybody is to go
Into their own emptiness
Nobody does reslly know
Partings are less and less