Colin F. Jones

I WONDER

I wonder at all the waste commotion
Devouring me with its false cry of devotion.
Am I an insentient stone – a hollow boulder?
Even thick skin at times, is borne by a shoulder.
Yet mine is thin acquainted with emotion …
‘Tis rather cold, this torrid depleting ocean
Of circumlocution; fancy stuttered words,
Describing owls as wise and noble birds
Soon the cries of sparrows will be bolder
Than the eagles cry now growing older …
The old shepherd will have lost his herds
To professional fools and unstable nerds
Then there will be a new revolution,
To establish another institution.