Monday, November 7, 2011

Fruit Flies in Paradise

There is no whispered discontent
When the fruit flies overtake
For shouts and swats of savage rage
At the soaring teeny dots
Become the common language used
By the giants in the room

But here where would the anger be
If not for little flies?
Our human nature damns us to
An ever present stage
Of tiny gripes that grip us strong
And dont free our attention

And so the bitsy buzzers fill
A void so very needed

By keeping all our grumpy bits
From tearing our selves down.