November
24, 1983 7:45 p.m. 
Poetry by Michael F. Nyiri
My Rules- You Lose
Shall we read the tattered rulebook with respect
Reap a real well rounded wisdom with our peers
Or throw away the numbered steps within our sect
Mount the muskets, strap on bandoliers
Should we stop a while,
admire the golden sun
Reap ripe rich rewards on bended knee
Or strike fast first
and then before we've done
Cleanse the Earth, Jehovah's impurity
In a second's glance an eon stops
his tracks
Irreversible fury feigning purest calm
No one has the time to ponder facts
With relative ease, existence we'll embalm
copyright 1999-2004 by Michael F. Nyiri
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