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Guest
Guest
Our only sky is scarred again.
The brittle hawks threw ancient shapes
With hearty drum, and arid smoke
Clinging to the throat's pregnant dream.
Our only earth is swollen now,
With promises in infancy.
And swarthy, profiteering kids
Stretching, reaching, from idle tethers.
Our adulthood is captured
And our ears are not our own;
A slow exchange has taken place from
Enemy to friend, again and again.
Travelling the seasoned land,
Pock-marked with destructive hand.
I see a tearful maiden set
Upon the soil; bereft, she wept.
Her infancy was stolen and beguiled
While autumn reports err on the mild
Manners of caution.
Generations sour in the wild.
Those dismal drums insinuate
A two-timed trust entwined
And turned to rust,
While smoke hangs like a cage.
The changeling is incensed
To screech at our insipid hour
Of need, and the silver
Screens us from a dour feed.
"A poem for the oppressed"
The brittle hawks threw ancient shapes
With hearty drum, and arid smoke
Clinging to the throat's pregnant dream.
Our only earth is swollen now,
With promises in infancy.
And swarthy, profiteering kids
Stretching, reaching, from idle tethers.
Our adulthood is captured
And our ears are not our own;
A slow exchange has taken place from
Enemy to friend, again and again.
Travelling the seasoned land,
Pock-marked with destructive hand.
I see a tearful maiden set
Upon the soil; bereft, she wept.
Her infancy was stolen and beguiled
While autumn reports err on the mild
Manners of caution.
Generations sour in the wild.
Those dismal drums insinuate
A two-timed trust entwined
And turned to rust,
While smoke hangs like a cage.
The changeling is incensed
To screech at our insipid hour
Of need, and the silver
Screens us from a dour feed.
"A poem for the oppressed"