Could I have ever really seen
under the shade of the rocky moon
the flash of light from your latest machine
what it was, what it would mean, the tears I wept, the tears I clean.
Could I have ever really known
about your talk of no spring
the colorful pictures you had shown,
my flowers plucked, my garden blown
the trees burned, the seeds unsown
Could I even now realize
where my home disappeared
under the thick black oil, it buys
your words, your constant lies,
deaf to the cries, no matter who dies.
Or in your eyes should I see my fate
dare and try to save us all
from the greed and senseless hate
leave my Mom, my empty plate
my cold crib,and not just lie here in wait !
loved it .. very well
ReplyDeleteBeautifully written.... But I am feeling very bad after reading it....
ReplyDeleteIts BEAUTIFUL..!!!..and amazingly put down on paper.... :-)
ReplyDeleteAgain not much of a literature in me. Rhymes are ok though. Write me a nice stroy.
ReplyDeleteAlso, with any art you cannot try to be artistic. It is best when it is exactly what you think, expressed in writing, painting, singing etc. Those are only my views.