Too many die every moment around us. Not wounded fatally though, but maimed and left to lurch and die. Too many ‘uv us’re paralysed enough to act. Hamletian syndrome. Too many tongues burnt on pyres fuelling a feudal society. Too many are doomed , trying to fit in with laboured ease. We’re all Walking dead. A zombie land this is. Infesting each other with ‘Hamletian syndrome’.
From what I have seen America is a well-oiled machine Our military Always ready to fight Together with so much might Leaving their homes night after night Saying goodbye believing it’s not your last sight Living in a whole With rations and
couples run naked then plunge into the vast sea laughter ensues… through the duration of the night a flock of birds with intense sounds In the distance the still silence then an old man appears gets into his boat and
Memory socks all tangled in a mental laundromat Just another peasant playing the aristocrat Treading water with dinosaurs, pajamas dragging me down Dodging rubber bricks, thrown by a circus clown X-ray vision in a room full of bones Mass hypnosis
I wish I could escape to that promised land Far away from this moribund moonscape & this callous concert grand. Where life is sweet like cherry wine & rivers wash away all the grime Where green meadows sway & swing
No more to live in earthly mould, Though siblings not bereft ? Despair in me did clasp its hold, My spirit long since left. No funeral pyre, no gaping clay, Not one sad mourning tear, No blood red rose, nor