Modern Apocalypse Rag (1976)

Note:  Found this in old notes; apparently, written in 1976.  I was 16 years old, and obviously in love with Allen Ginsberg and Gwendolyn Brooks at this point of my life.  Offered as a historical note, mostly for myself.

We all stomp round and round.  We rage at sky,
at ground.  We hunt and peck
and scream.  We hate, we fear,
we dream.  Corpses love their names.
We rip ourselves with games.
We hope, but hope’s a lie.  We live,
we wait to die.  The trees
don’t know we care.  The sea,
the fish, the air.  We strike at those
we loathe.  We sleep we those we love.
We can’t tell them apart.  We give up making
art.  We drink our salty tears.  We do this
all our years.  We spend our time on pain.
Our children do the same.  We lie down,
glad to sleep.  When we die,
no one will weep.