At this point I hate the whole world.
I'm nauseous as I listen to Christmas music
After leaving the Viet Nam military base where
Men have "lucked out" and come home.
No poetry to that -
They did what they wanted to do,
And the poverty
And the bigotry that runs free
The black and the red
That starve to death
While rich little bitches
Bicker over bread.
God, I'm sick of it all tonight.
Past the point of reunion
Of the mind and social sights
And standards ---
Read all about it then
Set it aside -
And ride on down your
Small, small world
You happy-go-lucky freaks.
ZCMI 12/67
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