Great nations made to hang
their heads in shame.
The blind exploits of infamy and fame.
Take a chance, but never, ever pay the price of blame.
Democracy that bleeds its fuel from the burning sands.
Victory that mourns the living
A future that no longer looks ahead.
Solid gold, the thrones - while stones
are thrown into the prisoners' reprieve.
Belief can be of evil or of
A fine spun line that hovers
'tween the wise man and the fool.
Few, the souls that choose to balance there.
Another day. The children
amid the rubble left them by adults
that never chose to look at the results
of what they chose to do again.
A mist of fog is flowing through
Dark clouds hover over everything.
A lightning blast, the spell is passed
unto another generation of the same.
Genius fried upon the lies
of politics and power.
Potential put on hold
while all the gold is gathered in.
Silver running down the walls.
Spirits screaming as they call their names.
Great nations made to hang their heads in shame.
Lead us home, oh father god, but let the blame
belong to someone else and leave us free
to celebrate the battles won
within our history...
? Michaelette ?
Copyright© 2003 Michaelette L. Romano
All Rights Reserved
Take me home . . .