poetry
Matters not to traipse a stage
Matters not by fits of rage
Matters not the end of time
Matters not a word sublime
Matters not the highest bet
Matters not the string quintet
For the quartet has been born
The spring lamb is ‘ready shorn
And her coat ‘s already worn
One should mention it was warm
But really, it’s just the norm
Do not tarry nor adorn
Nor by freedom cause a storm
For the righteous are forlorn
Not the reckless — they’re reborn
Matters not the time of war
Matters not the local whore
Matters not what is the cause
Matters not empty applause
Matters not which time of day
Late December or mid-May
Platitudes are gratitude
They keep one going ’til dawn
Directed by cherished doom
By good friends or some yahoo
Makes no difference in the zoo
For, ’tis just a future tomb
Matters not the price exhumed
Matters not the heart — screw ’em
Matters not the fall of man
Matters not the Son of Sam
Heaven’s manna by the gram
Nor does passion, pride or clan
