It is a time of wind and rain and in the green wood the voices of the dead coagulate and skim this edge of consciousness. It is a time of heavy-hearted dread. It is the day of the dead. And what have we done Since the last, lingering death? Nothing, nada, no The wicked still prosper, And the rich come and go And the world spins the same As ever it did before And the poor are as they were they before Footprints in the snow. And as this fog surrounds us And the mist is everywhere Let these hands of merely humans Meet in this thin air.
Divide & rule is a common act in our nations, They say politics is a dirt game, though every day we experience politics, Allocation of resources been major politics, It’s a horrifying reality but we have politicians & voters, Lisa
I unwrite a song for she, a gratis homage. Questioning imperils the sky, clouds would not weep. A cover-up comes to quote scriptures the meaning of deployment. Was I feeling smug after counting the pages of unread death? ———————————————– I
Hoping for more good days. Wishing that everyday was like today. Filled with joy and excitement. But containing the sorrow and sadness. Good days come and go. Containing both the joy and sorrow. Some containing more than the other. But
Slowly into the path Path of hope, joy, greatness Standing all kind of weather Drizzles, showers, hurricane, all kinds With faith I still ride on It seems far away But I have heard stories of heroes who made it Am