Noise Poem by Zyw Zywa

Empty the meeting room
The chairs lined up again
The screen in the corner still spouting
the latest news reports

I lie down on the round table
stretch myself out and surrender
to pleasure, caressed
laziness, oh, don't

think of your hands now
not of decisions taken
plans and action points and
not of the noise outside

the air rippling around
the boxing hustle
the profits bouncing
across cartwheels of hurry

the life of our excesses
of deeds, although I prefer them sometimes
to words, although I prefer them sometimes
because each life does count