Sue Vincent's Daily Echo

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I saw the best minds of my generation

starved into servitude, strides for recognition

unheard by ears listening to another word,

forthright regals regaling unwittingly

about pond scum to bigger fish.

They moved with surety once but

never again, with age, their pages lost,

their songs unsung except to one another,

temple to temple all night long, cost

again by Burning Man and outre suave

signs o’ the times and Y2K like

the best minds produced exiles in rivers

damned by those who bar the crossings.

I saw the best women of my generation

struggle to become both woman and man,

fight against one another with tea cups and

soirees against reason for reasonable lives

and Jumbotron kisses raising daughters

who dare to bare in instagrammatic spheres.

They lost to no lunches and fast food,

diets and airbrushed mini malls, pork

size poker faces every day in halls

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