The Tree Outside

There is a tree outside my house.

They cut it when it grows.

I guess that's what human nature is,

it destroys what it sows.

There is a tree outside my house.

They cut it when it grows.

It's the human condition, they say.

it destroys what can grow.

There was a tree outside my house.

It fell the other day.

Its roots collapsed, it was hollow inside.

It was a human being, they say.

Killing time

How do you kill time?
Do you stab it?
Poison it?
Or strangle it?

How do you kill one hour?
For its end, you need to wait.
To meet a lover,
your next best friend,
or a train, speeding late.

How do you kill time?
Do you burn it?
Shoot it?
Or drown it?

How do you kill one hour?
In a room full of strangers, you sit.
Do you stare at their faces?
Stare at their panic, their despair.
Their inadequate might.
One hour too long?
One hour too short?
The eternal fight.

How do you kill time?
Do you throw it in a tub with an electrical appliance?
Freeze it?
Or just ignore it?

But time is already dead.
It bent and slipped away.