Fields of yellow husks

Remains of people lost in mind

They burn under a hot hot sun

Wave forlornly in the slight breeze

Giants blowing kisses on the run


Pacing left in seven league boots

Over mountains and then the plains

They trample down the right

Crush underfoot their stolen views

Without a whimper or a fight


Fossilised remains of those

Sneak over bridges underground

We’ll never ever understand

As they set fire to the fields

How they can hate their fellow man





Copyright July 2015


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