Jonathan Adam Matsuzaka
If I wasn’t just dreaming,
In the space of three hundred years,
Everyone says I’m exploiting the kids.
This is so antiseptic,
A kind of intuition is necessary,
We’d have to do it all in secret;
The true ends of knowledge,
What do they look like?
Stay out late, come home drunk,
There we learn our own ugliness,
That’s what I wanted to do.
It’s not that hard for me,
Unless you want to not vote,
Competing special interests;
Good people do a fairly good job,
Free to succeed and free to fail.
The states in question are averages,
They will return, these Gods,
What’s the price of a thousand horses?
Recycled Poetry 