9.
Wasting tattered inspiration.
Dreaming dreams of faraway goals.
Enjoying passionless youth.
Living with ironbound shackles.
Inhaling covert pollutants.
Begging for forgiveness.
Lazy Sunday.
Detached from society.
Summer sunrays hit like spotlights.
Fields flowing with a captivating glitter,
The wind dances and sways,
Too lightly and too calm.
Flies by and whispers me a secret.
"Lifetimes are shorter than you think"
Lazy Sunday.
Beautiful morning.
But the clouds mesmerize my imagination.
Telling their stories through their shapes.
Shadowing the lands with their grandeur.
Float on to their changing rooms.
Reappearing with new fables.
It always seems like they're smiling.
Lazy Sunday.
Eloquent Metaphors.
The trees quake with subtle laughter.
Hindered by our common indifference.
The weeds take their regular dosage of reality.
And wait for the Sun to return to fulfill their dreams.
The dove gets caught in the spider's web.
Maybe they don't belong with predators.
Lazy Sunday.
Natural Doppelgangers.
Crops bend to our impatience.
Sprayed with farmland pesticides.
Yards bow to our intolerance.
The grass bleeds and flowers chop.
Nature's been stolen, been victimized.
All with their gasoline and mechanisms.
Lazy Sunday.
Ugly Culture.
Pastures burned and forests bulldozed.
Make way for supermarkets and subliminal Consumerism.
Plump tyrants count their money.
As their gasoline robs our wallets and purses.
Wearing their winter coats on a hot day.
Wearing rain boots in the desert.
Lazy Sunday.
Some dreams weren't meant to be.
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