The merry go round shaking hands
and robbing banks,
and picking their noses,
and singing military songs
about the glory of battle
and the need for more blood,
and reading signs about
turning around,
or stopping,
or about yielding
or about not speeding;
and the merry happily dancing
with the honey bees in their gardens,
getting stung for fun,
and drinking the honey that slowing runs,
and drips and drips.
and one more thing,
about the merry ones,
they are always so very happy,
no concerns in their brains,
it is all the same, all the same,
in their brains; of the merry ones.
A Hernandez 5 23 2025
Poems by Arturo Hernandez 