Politics

 

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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