.



winds

                                                  ( Over the waters )

:;

holy mother                                        

//

the children hide within intimations of madness

And pain ....

So joyous
So free

Amid the fake blood
And the fake love

But really

They are seen

//

Little rich girls and their games

//

Come

Time to move on

//

/:/

The images we need are still here somewhere

Of a strength

::

time to bid farewell

To false pity stirred by the morbid fascination

With the inane ramblings of

Those whose only intent is to harm

•

The spam poetry !

•

""

There is real suffering

//

Let us find true children

And take them home

//


Holy mother

With holy

Daughters

And holy sons