Caprices of futurography

To think, says the immigrant,
I dotted with peoples all geography.
Images of me (bastards to the last)
dreamt up a host of schemes,
prayed for plagues, copulated
furiously with beast and beech.
They forgot (the demented race)
I gave them no assurances but speech.
Their toils were all guaranteed,
their futures—anxious them—caprice.

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~ by Jeremy on May 27, 2013.

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