Just Another Day In Dear Old Blighty Poem by DM W

It is not true our lives
Pass before us
In rapid motion.
Our culture of overly keen
Ticking machines
Creates this illusion.

Our 24/7 media
Also magnifies the impression
That time is speeding by.
O this rampant age
substitutes pearls of wisdom
For tainted information.

I prefer the slowness
Of long, drowsy hours
Especially in soft summer days.
I like to contemplate Nature.
My living room is a veritable
Sanctuary from today's madness.
Littered with books; DVDS
And piles of scribbled paper.

From my window,
I scan the plagued streets;
The traffic is snarling
There's a flag at half mast:
Sure sign of some
Disturbance in our weary world.

O we still have not learned
From the follies of our forefathers:
That violence begets violence.
Thus we are perennially condemned
To live amidst terror.
It just keeps on breeding.

As I glance at the news
It seems my fears are well founded.
And the cheerful morning sun
Suddenly turns eerily away from me.