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NO MAN, NO SEASON By Bedros Afeyan Collectively we stand Or think we do. Collectively we hope Declare the sword Inferior to the pen Or ink or feather. High in reason, sure of measure We serve our lord Sweetened self interest Illusion of duped masses Making their gains into our profit. Sloganeers, marketers, steeped in musk We regurgitate faithlessness As conviction, Markovian prediction Of endless struggle For good old liberty And apple pie freedom As billions die slowly. For no man is left for any season No man within the confines of reason Allowed to speak of compound injustices Streaming forward to touch infinity And declare their treason, a national treasure. 8-13-05 Pleasanton, CA -- Dr. Bedros Afeyan is a theoretical physicist who works and lives in the Bay area with his wife, Marine. He writes in Armenian and in English and also paints and sculpts. Samples of his work can be found on the web by clicking on his personal web pages at: http://18.104.22.168/