Confession was an obsession
in the earliest times of the twenty-first
century in all the developed nations
on a sphere somewhere between
Venus and Mars.
I took up the habit out of shear despair.
Fear for this sphere.
All it\'s air, all it\'s oceans,
see the pretty animals die by the herd,
unheard of cruel treatment of entire populations
of peaceful people all over the globe
by goons and gangs,
people that hang on to vice
for their very life\'s blood,
dealing in weapons and schemes,
bullets, vices, and human weakness.
Pinning the cost of a happy existence
to the proper insurance,
balancing the act of how they distract,
and are to be examined and reasonably distrusted.
They are disgusting me, I must confess,
remember Khe Sanh,
remember Kay\'s son,
a battle seventy- seven days long,
however you never remember is up to you-all,
so called, what, God fearing?