There is nothing I can do.
A month has passed in a years time
a second waits for a decade
a century passes unnoticed
and a penny stands on end.
Nothing, just nothing I can do.
A blade of grass struggles to the sky
there is an orange glow around the sun
a sleepy man digests his hamburger
and a nun contemplates suicide.
No no nothing can be done.
But sink that spade into the moist earth
plot another witty conversation
stroke the cats ear while lying down
corner the market
and ply your trade.
Just know that there is nothing you can do.
Why do you protest,
why the long face of indignation?
You are saying the utmost thing
and it drops to the ground
and immediately begins to mold.
So what of you all puffed up and annoyed
I bring you down, you say?
Where is your left foot?
You didn’t think of it till now, did you?
Don’t you see, for all you have done
there is nothing you can do.