W. Rod MacMasterson Poems

Best Poem of W. Rod MacMasterson

Dissatisfaction
Frustration, I am a prisoner
Consumption they are prisoners
I am a prisoner of frustration I
know not yet a purpose
They are prisoners of consumption
running around in the same free market circus
Why do they consume, will a new car allow
their self-esteem to bloom?
Why do I consume
for new . . .
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Some Crap About Nature
There, there little blade of grass
You grow so quickly and are cut so fast
There, there little misquito
Your bite itches as I eat my taquito
There, there little humingbird
Your heart beats fastest have'nt you heard?
There, there tall oak tree
How many have been shaded by thee
There, there lovely . . .
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