. . .
O Lady Liberty,
what will you do with me?
Your corroded, copper skin
hides steel, well, within.
O lady Liberty
too many songs sung at thee
but when the bugles shrilly blow
who will, righteous, Know?
O lady liberty
is your mate Responsibility?
For when you stand all alone
the choir of Hell begins to drone.
O lady liberty
what is your posterity;
the song of Freedom or the Fate
of the Doom of History learned too late?
O lady liberty
please wave, once more, to ‘We’.
As you fade into our mist
do you add another to your List?
O lady liberty
Freed from the chains of literacy,
your Poetry would still ring true
if the words meant more to me than to you.
o lady liberty
my children, you’ll never see,
thinking Winter won’t come again,
sing and dance in Summer’s Reign.
O Idol of Copper and Stone
who left you, there, all alone?
Who turned their faith and Ayes away
and left ghosts to remember and debris to play?
O Archaeology
What does this mean to a passing me;
a piece of copper, a chunk of stone,
an infertile seed the past has sown?
O Eternity . . .
what have I done
to me?
Feb 5, 2014
Feb 5, 2014 at 9:28 AM UTC
. . .
O Lady Liberty,
what will you do with me?
Your corroded, copper skin
hides steel, well, within.
O lady Liberty
too many songs sung at thee
but when the bugles shrilly blow
who will, righteous, Know?
O lady liberty
is your mate Responsibility?
For when you stand all alone
the choir of Hell begins to drone.
O lady liberty
what is your posterity;
the song of Freedom or the Fate
of the Doom of History learned too late?
O lady liberty
please wave, once more, to ‘We’.
As you fade into our mist
do you add another to your List?
O lady liberty
Freed from the chains of literacy,
your Poetry would still ring true
if the words meant more to me than to you.
o lady liberty
my children, you’ll never see,
thinking Winter won’t come again,
sing and dance in Summer’s Reign.
O Idol of Copper and Stone
who left you, there, all alone?
Who turned their faith and Ayes away
and left ghosts to remember and debris to play?
O Archaeology
What does this mean to a passing me;
a piece of copper, a chunk of stone,
an infertile seed the past has sown?
O Eternity . . .
what have I done
to me?
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