Rows Of Hopelessness

Rows Of Hopelessness ballad

Photo by david spigolon

Idle plows sit bed-ridden
in the numb fists of their owners
while the company of grass waxes lush
and the field mouse waits in vain for spoil
a spell of impotence now holds the soil to ransom
as worms goad the tummy to declare her unsung revulsion

The temple doors wait in self-imposed fear
As lovebirds honour Cupid in the cleavage of the sacristy,
Pregnant envelopes slammed on The Lord’s table
fidgeting feet underneath the table
in concert twitching eyelids
divulge the secret mission of such envelops
the deal is sealed with the man in white cassock as accomplice
Come Sunday, sermon is spiked with a tinge of diplomacy
and beneficiaries retire with a drunk ego

The virgin cry of abandoned newborns
rises to judge the serenity of the streets
As soon as they are dropped off by their hell-bound mothers
in innocence they lie and hold a bargain with nature
to be included in the population census

lethargy, compromise and vice
have worked their way to the top of the list
while we, being their servants have taken an oath of silence
But be not misled,
Ours is the tale of a good world turned bad
It wasn’t so in Genesis
A trip to Genesis is the way out for humanity.

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