Sand In The Gears

I know nothing of poetry except, perhaps, things must rhyme.

But the world is broken.

Baltimore is smokin’.

Colorado is tokin’.

The world bursts with violence and croakin’.

Cry out! There’s sand in the gears!

There’s sand in the gears!

But no one hears.

Please pass the beers.

Oh! Where, where is our hope–surely it lies in the fullness of time.

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