I wonder all the time how the snipping, snapping flowers br ever manage to grow? Rushing up through the dirt of br their existence, raising the cheer of the newly born. br br Other weeds attack with gusto, other opinions will br be presented. Grasping, grabbing hands will reach br like claws for solutions. They will demand and stand br for no resistance. They will capture every flag. br br I wonder why the light bulbs go out when they do? I wonder br why the words I'm saying will never amount to anything? br br We are all rather like that, endless whispers of promises br that we never have any intention of keeping. Blowing br smoke bubbles of deceptions we are ensured of always being. br br Regardless of the time of day, everything always seems to br go on with the same sense of failure. Knotted stomach br muscles suggesting that the era of peace we proclaimed with br our social revolution was nothing more than shadow puppets br flickering on the empty white wall. I wonder why my tongue br only tastes the victory of potted plant mentalities. br br Will we ever decide to wander out into the rain together? br Letting the raindrops wet our perceptive smiles as we br grin like melted plastic in a garbage can by the roadside. br br Don't promise me checks and balances when the very br world is contrary to determined sets of standards. br br I wonder all the time how the snipping, snapping flowers br ever manage to grow? Rushing up through the dirt of br their existence, raising the cheer of the newly born.br br Chris G.