In dark of early morning
Mother Earth did tremble
from the weight of our worried dreams
and sent a simple message
like the cranky down stairs tenant
banging on the ceiling
making her displeasure known
of the senseless racket above
that sent buildings quick to prostrate
while streets rose up like waves:
Your place in time is limited.
Your power is an illusion.
You are a flea on the royal dog.
Behave yourself
or you may be removed
without warning.
Ken Owen Van Niddy Press August 2014
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