.


Simple is love


The gentle simple man

Sees the train go by

•


•

The sense of freedom ?

The sense of honest and open participation ?

)(

the dying dreams of crying children

Mar both the day and night

••

We huddle

In transient hotels

We recall the poems of ancient real
Poets !

And we wonder

As we wander about


WHY

THERE IS NO POETRY ANYMORE


••


Simple love


The gentle lover

Is a crippled old man

Who still sees

He stills puts all of life

On every line

••

The times


Like the daily commuter

Taking the workers into the places

Of their slavery

Rolls on by


The sense of freedom and dignity has died !


\"/

the dying dreams of crying children

Vanish from sight

The rain


Falls


Poisoned waters


Fall


The crying children fall


Just my simple poem


Remains



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