There once was a clumsy witch

Whose nose had a little itch

While trying to scratch it

With a wooden hatchet

She ended up needing a stitch

There once was a man who was holy.

(He wasn’t a very good goalie.)

Balalaika, balalaika

Elegant, triangle-like

A musical, three-stringed delight

I really like the balalaika

Roses are red

Violets are blue

When you think about it--

Isn't that strange to you?

Are fabricated illusions until one is bold enough to jump off from the conveyer belt.

If I write you the wittiest poem to win

I'll have no better one left to write

End my writing career before it begins?

I think you must be out of your mind!

We live in a time when the very fabric of society is shifting, paradigms are changing--ways of thinking and living. The conveyer belt has become a dead end for many and unrest has become heavy. Times of transition are always the most difficult to bear.

Have we always been so apathetic? Is it easier to act on our apathetic nature behind computer screens and profile pictures?