"systematically" poems
I, a woman of letters, have been waiting for you, a man of numbers. I’ve been fantasizing of the day when you would deliver at the porch of my heart your algebraic equation. The x’s and y’s merged systematically with all the symbols, forming an indelibly inked pattern that would finally make sense. I have been waiting and hoping and praying, but all I’ve got so far are your invalid equations, the confusion, the uncertainties, the unsolvable mathematical sentence that I want so desperately unscrambled. How can you not, in your genius, find the right equation, even as I now try to draft a coherent verse?
for j.e.
013115
Jan 31, 2015
Jan 31, 2015 at 11:03 AM UTC
As mother nature's
Punitive measure
Against a society
In maintaining
The statuesque
That doesn't bother,
Our rivers
Had become subject
To a water thirst,
To the extent
Of projecting
Rocky ribs
Terrifyingly protruded out
For easy count!
But now thanks to
The all-out, terrace making
And reafforestation effort
Of each catchment
Farmers have made a point
And also to the afforestation
Move of the government
Rivers aside from quenching
Their insatiable thirst
Have resumed
To brim over
With floods
Drinking water
To their hearts' content.
Our forests once stripped of
Their wooded cover
Have started, fast, to recover
From afar they are seen
Robed eye-catching green
From a fry-pan sky
Allowing a shelter
Also busy
Carbon to sequester.
Wild animals
That migrated
Have preferred
Back their way to find.
Now farmers don't have
Deep to dig
To sink a water well
Or find a nearby spring.
Birds are heard chirruping
Be it winter, summer or spring,
While Brooks bubbling.
Buzzing and hovering
From this to that flower
Bees are producing
Organic honey by the hour.
Promising a bumper harvest
Farmer's plots have
Fortunately continued
To resuscitate!
Those leaving
Their denuded abode behind
Away, who preferred
To stay
'We will return back
home soon! '
Is what
They say.
Happily enough
Mother nature
Affords us a second chance
Imbued with
Environment stewardship
If we are willing to mend
Our wrong 'Feast today
famine tomorrow! ' stance.
To dispel the spectre
Of climate change
And systematically face
The global challenge
True to the adage
'We have either to
swim together
or sink together! '
Hence in fighting the challenge
Or adapting to the change
Back scratching,
We have to be on the same page.
Indeed, irrigation must
Not slip our mind
For erratic rainfall
A lasting solution
If we must find.//
Once a famous Ethiopian Poet Pro.Debebe Seifu Who had passed away had penned down a picturesque poem lamenting the land degradation, deforestation and change of climate the country was suffering.The bad scenario seemed unrecoverable.Now a days Ethiopia is reversing that sad episode.I have therefore to write a poem on this
#change #trees #erosion #climate #deforestation #enviroment #degeradation #desertification
Sep 28, 2015
Sep 28, 2015 at 4:22 AM UTC
electromagnetically
feelings occur,
responsive to going ons,
pineal gland awakens the senses.
and almost every woman has heard it
"you're so emotional."
so electromagnetically aware
and we don't remember this,
now,
the womb,
the beat maker,
she tunes the
energy of the babe.
mothers wave of
waves fractionally
lay a deep foundation
of the babes waves.
I tell my children
if they can't find me
to look in their hearts
I reside there…
my rhythm, my beat, my heat
lives on.
my womb
charged that spark
that started the parting
of molecules
fractionally
creating its imagine
time and time again, (as we do)
until, begin again,
a new life.
rest your head upon my chest
child
for a recharge.
in our civilized world
we send mothers to work
in a make believe cycle of need.
babes heart searches
for mamas tone
she only cries short
cautious of overspent energy
first dose of sickness.
and EVERY woman has heard it…
"you're so emotional"
notably more so
during some part of her
moon cycle.
so obviously the moon
is more electromagnetic
than we guess.
and women are more emotional
because we are the heart
of the species.
we co-create the heart
of the species.
we require the emotional
antenna
to summon the essence of the heart.
we didn't come from a rib…
our ribs vibrate the
harmony of life through our time!
our hearts beat
the pulse of the
sun
and the dark side of the moon
and infinity.
we are electromagnetically
inclined to emotions.
systematically processing
the energy of existence.
perhaps the first title I will accept
a claim upon my being,
the feminine sensitive.
Dec 8, 2014
Dec 8, 2014 at 5:19 PM UTC
Where are all the anarchist tonight?
Have they all disappeared
under disgruntled lovers throwing acid,
bleeding misbeloved employees glocking no joy,
displaced juveniles servicing denial
at station number 3?
Where are all the anarchist,
my friends, the needles of hay,
stacked balefully, systematically
against the marginalized barn
side door beneath exit sign 4.
Where are all the anarchist tonight?
Have they drunk too many Molotov
and can't find the Way,
and instead burn car, smell bushes burnt
and forgotten the **** up?
Mar 29, 2013
Mar 29, 2013 at 11:35 PM UTC
In high school
we learn of logarithms, iambic meter
how to balance an equation between zinc oxide
and excess hydrogen gas–
only to find there was no reaction to begin with.
We’re told that colleges get to know you
through three letter acronyms—ACT, SAT, GPA…
and our name is somewhere in the application.
It’s repeated to us to the point of meaninglessness,
like a perpetually chanted word:
Grades, scores and testing, testing, testing.
The students they want know everything
that will be forgotten by their thirtieth birthday.
I anticipate the day
that our Geometry teacher is to write an essay
on the individual’s struggle
against a systematically inhumane society
in Orwell’s 1984
only to receive a “D” under the scrutinizing eye of
the honor’s English teacher
Or, perhaps, the day someone in charge
is faced with some insufferable fate
the textbooks call chemical stoichiometry,
thirty years after repressing memories
of having to memorize the periodic table
Socrates once said that the youth today
will be the demise of civilization.
We contradict our parents, are smug in the face of authority
and tyrannize our poor teachers—
a youth who will ultimately leave behind a world
too damaged for our children to inherit.
Funny he said this
roughly 2,000 years ago–
I think my dad said something like that last year.
But, until the day we grow up to pay taxes
and marry someone we despise,
we’re just stupid teenagers.
Nov 1, 2012
Nov 1, 2012 at 11:37 AM UTC
This darkness slowly eats at my heart
it systematically tears me apart.
The place that it brings me fills me with fear
and makes my eyes fill with tears.
All I want is for this darkness to dissipate
and bring love back to me instead of hate.
Jun 12, 2012
Jun 12, 2012 at 4:17 AM UTC
To make wine,
Grapes are crushed then poured into fermentation tanks.
Once fermentation begins, the grape skins are pushed to the surface by carbon dioxide gases released in the fermentation process.
I am the only fruit who has the necessary acids to make natural, stable wine.
My tannins add a bitterness and astringency,
But I must be picked at the right time.
My acidity and sweetness must be zen in balance.
The right ones are sorted through, but not all of us make the cut.
Unable to be served as sweet wine, too bitter.
Some more sweet, not bitter enough.
Simply picked at the wrong time, their peak unwanted, forgotten.
After being sorted we are destemmed and crushed.
Our roots ripped from us, dignity stomped upon.
For years, it was done manually, by foot.
Now, preformed mechanically, systematically.
But hey!
"Mechanical pressing has brought tremendous sanitary gains as well as increased the longevity and quality of wine."
Grape abuse continues, white wine grapes are quickly crushed.
Why do you ask?
To keep unwanted "color" from leeching into the wine.
But red wine,
Red wine is left in contact with it's skin, forced to acquire more color, more flavor and additional tannins.
After being sorted and crushed, I naturally ferment with in six to twelve hours.
This continues until all my sugar,
Is converted to alcohol.
To produce dry, wine.
The final stage is aging.
I am bottled with a cork,
Put on a shelf.
And ironically,
await my optimal fruitfulness.
Dec 6, 2016
Dec 6, 2016 at 2:30 PM UTC
I love love, I love hate, I love love before it's love, I love love after it dies
I love sunny days, I love rainy days, I love overcast , and I love the snow
I love walking, I love breathing,
I love listening I love speaking
I love interactions with factions upon factions and I truly love being alone
I love the rich, I love the poor, I love Liberals and Conservatives
I love they got meanings of the terms twisted and preach so vehemently about the superiority of their ideology
I love those who speak logically, I love those who listen, I love words that were written to be spoken, and those that were just to be written
I love racists, I love blacks, I love whites, and every ethnicity with any pigmentation that falls between them or against them
I love all cultures equally, And I love cultures that hold themselves to a higher esteem than other cultures
I love Cops and I love Criminals, I love Order and alcoholics and crack addicts who just keep gettin back at it with bare minimals
I love Devote Christians, I love Krampus, I love Christmas,
I love Baphomets, I love Marvin Gaye, I love The Doors Greatest Hit list
I love Batman, I love the Joker,
I love marijuana, and both those who are and are not avid smokers
I love the freedoms I enjoy everyday and I love that men are systematically taught to hate me on a spiritual level with such passion that they would strap a bomb to their chest just to end my existence
I love the Persistence, Of time, Life, Movement, The Cosmos, and I love that it keeps on existing so fluently that we feel almost lucidly that our existence is significant =)
I love the inquisitive look in the eyes of babies asking questions without the means to ask questions that, in due time, will only be answered by questions and answers that evoke much larger questions. And I love both those questions and the appropriate answers.
I love those with and without an appreciation for the nonsensical
I love you
Jan 2, 2015
Jan 2, 2015 at 7:22 PM UTC
This elastic band has stretched as far as it possibly can
Now is the time to cut the cord
Over enough is more than enough
It's time for the narcissist to be unveiled
Oh bride of Satan
For the wolves in sheep's clothing to be called out
Your time is up!
We've had enough!
People are not as stupid as you'd like them to be
That spoiled little brat of a child inside is to be silenced for good
Singlehandedly you have destroyed your relationships
Systematically you have ruined your friendships
Over enough is more than enough
The true meaning of loneliness you will now encounter
Your fragile mask has shattered into pieces
The protective cover has blown away
Exposed you will stand
Finally everyone will see you for the serpent you truly are
No one is buying the lies you have so generously been selling
No matter how great a bargain
Your mind games and tactics have become stale
Over enough is more than enough
The reality which awaits you is harsh and bleak
From your put on laugh to the fake compliments
Both come from the same dark and empty space
A bottomless pit of deception in which you lurk
Hollow vase you are
Collage of fabricated personalities
You model yourself on others
But can never hold down one character for too long
Over enough is more than enough
Like a blank canvas you are vacant to take on any shape or form
You wear a fake smile and your eyes are dead
You destroy like a bull, but hurt like a baby
Your brain is corroded and your spirit is ill
Your own medicine you will drink
It will consume you from the inside out
Implode you will
Troublemaker and schemer
Over enough is more than enough
You are driven by your severe deep-rooted insecurity and shame
You prey on the empathetic
Virtual vampire, always looking for someone to drain
You do unto others as you would NOT have done unto yourself
A conscience you were born without
Quick to quote a scripture or two
But slow in applying it to yourself
And even the devil knows the score
Over enough is more than enough
Your condescending eyes will be plucked out by a ruthless crow
You will burn in your own defeat and your perfume will be sulphur
Down you will tumble from your pedestal
You no longer have a place in my life
You no longer have a place in my heart
But more importantly
You no longer have a place in my mind
Jun 9, 2023
Jun 9, 2023 at 2:05 PM UTC
Give me back my sheets!
You have stained them...
With your neo-nazism.
White pride world wide?
You are no nativist.
Sure Whites are now eight percent of the population,
but is race culture?
Catholic under those stained sheets?
Your diocese's came and made that road to Rome.
Albeit subversion of Americanism mutually.
And as communism did exactly what we knew,
by way of the Black Church and the Synagogue.
Have manifested Jewish rites in governance.
Made non-miscegenation taboo for Whites systematically.
Compromised national sovereignty for a global order.
All the while feminists have made the womb an ego for Moloch.
You say the Ku Klux **** is unacceptable?
They are nil.
Yet you romanticize the mafia.
Thank you mafia for upholding the unions, gambling and ***********
Give me back my sheets!
© S. Wesley Mcgranor
Feb 5, 2015
Feb 5, 2015 at 12:58 AM UTC
If the Scots
get independence
will we get better ****
I'd vote for that.
Maybe the 'silent majority' are like ...
hospitals, schools, fish,
whisky, natural energy
blah blah
The good folk in Scotland
have been drip-fed the
worst **** in history:
coated in chemicals
bath rinsed
molasses
spare car tyre
plastic
flotsam
***
seriously
No wonder -
Bammed (right up)
Givin it
Havin it
Lovin it
is why
bands & DJs
Love to Play:
'up for it'
'Hey MoJo's
share some of
that MTV love'
anything that's called
Council Hash
and accepted as the norm
reeks of class politics;
ah they won't mind
the **** end o that
they're the Scots
The Scottish Government
should embrace
a new Scotland
and the people in it
We want lots of things:
one of which is
better ****
Crime will drop:
- sniffing car tyres for a hit
- sales of Buckfast
will fund the entire
South East of England.
Scotland could lead the world
in upcycling as
Rizla fails to meet demand.
Our days would be so radically different;
auto flexi time
carbon neutral
trams with comfy seats
systematically
mathematically
go faster
than walking:
a mode of choice
I'd vote for that
...
Jul 30, 2013
Jul 30, 2013 at 8:34 PM UTC
Words find their way.
Hearts speak through fingers.
Reading eyes are mirrored in
Ink systematically spilled in
The shape of sounds
And minds.
A pen resting on the table is a
Flatline.
A blank piece of paper merely
Dead, compressed wood.
Don't deny us your genius.
There is no try in poetry.
Sep 17, 2015
Sep 17, 2015 at 8:00 AM UTC
Tens of millions of men, women and children murdered
But what do we care?
Genocide-systematically killing, ****** and harming
But what do we care?
We say "never again" that turned into "never again, again"
And twenty-thousand children born for one-hundred days of forced pleasure
Families ripped apart, homes destroyed, and murder-murder
We say it but do we get it?
Do we really GET it?
Do we really grasp the fact of people's lives being ended forcefully for no other reason than someone "disagrees" for no other reason than someone's "different
But what do we care?
Blue eyes, blonde hair, bright skin to the right
Brown eyes, black hair, dark skin to the left
Those on the right go home,
Those on the left no longer have homes for concentration camps are now their homes
The sent of freshly brewed lipton tea has now been replaced by the harsh fumes of zyklon-B
Unsure of their next meal, if you could call it that at all, unsure of their next beating, the next time they'll be ***** unsure of what'll be theirs last breath before death
Feeling unsure and not secure
But please tell me, what do we care?
Mar 20, 2017
Mar 20, 2017 at 3:05 AM UTC
I am not much of a poet, and it takes a whole lot of poet to write a love poem
Sappy and happy never read as well as blood, sweet, and tears
And years of turmoil has always aid me
But lately, I’v been hastily and systematically fathoming how to make words fit
Like our bodies do at sundown, when we are the only light inside a dark room
Just beaming at one another, why bother… cheesy isn’t easy .. but I try
I try to find the powerful words that will describe the electricity that pulsates from us
We are the biggest power source around, if only I found the words to say it right
I am not much of a poet, and it takes a whole lot of poet to write a real love poem
But if I tried to write a love poem, it would be about you
About how your smile is a sun rise after endless nights
About how I only know your strength because you pull me in close
Like I weigh nothing and my baggage is just a carry on, nothing that can’t be handled
Never pushing me away or hurting, your strength is seen in your gentleness
I would explain how you make stretch marks feel like beauty marks
How you make sun kisses feel cool, how you make heartbeats in to drums, how you make a guitar sing, and your voice vibrates and rolls something between honey and heaven.
I would write about how you have endless energy and ambition
Charisma and endless potential that grabs at every opening door
I would write about how you grow friendships and flowers like they are one in the same
And how you love and invest in both
How you read like a scholar and chase after things only brave men chase after
I am not much of a poet but if I were I would paint in words for you the most vibrant expressions
Of lust and love and tinder kindness
Lay down words like bricks to build you up
Show how you are the one I searched and found worth finding
How we light up, show how exciting…..
Im not a love poet, not much of a poet at all…
But either way you are worth the fall, you deserve a love poem.
Jan 30, 2014
Jan 30, 2014 at 2:06 AM UTC
Hurtling across the horizon
inside the belly of a great ribbed
silver beast, barreling singlemindedly
down its prearranged tracks at speeds
previously unobtainable my mere mortal men.
Modern marvels of man-made comfort
surround us daily. So that we can exist without
need of fear or worry from our environment.
Our fight or flight responses are being systematically
removed, slowly, generation by generation.
Our dominance of the material world
and the animal kingdom is destroying the world
as we knew it. This world of ours that we now reside
within is entirely foreign to what existed before us.
We are the aliens of our own futures.
Jul 22, 2013
Jul 22, 2013 at 8:55 PM UTC
The Natural World is not so benevolent.
Though, I don't mean that it is malevolent,
but with things like Disease, Entropy and Radiation,
I would say that the odds certainly are not in our Favour.
Yet, here we are.
An act of sheer Defiance
to an otherwise inanimate Reality.
A Being of Reason, Creativity, Interpretation, Intuition and Consciousness
observing the cold assumed lifelessness of the Crystallization of this Epoch of Energy.
I speak not of the benevolent and malevolent Energies
which perhaps permeate and flow through this Reality,
but those, to me, don't necessarily qualify as "Natural" in this sense;
they are super-natural, para-natural, or hyper-natural. Pre-natural, even.
I speak of tangible, scientific, here-and-now "Reality"; whatever that means.
Matter and the Energies we know of that are subsets of it.
Gravity, Electromagnetism, the Strong and Weak Nuclear forces.
This Physical Prison of Godself; like a physical Dream
from which One cannot awaken until Death.
Perhaps not even then? Who knows?
Who are we, who yet live, to say?
Maybe it's a case-by-case basis;
but, in any case, I digress:
The Natural World is a Force to be reckoned with;
it holds the Powers of Sustenance as well as Annihilation
yet we so take it for granted and **** pillage and plunder it evermore systematically
That's just bad form.
Conciser Reverence
though not religiously so;
merely giving Thanks to
the Forces which sustain us.
Respecting
the Forces which sustain us.
Earth. Sun. Water. Air. The interplay of these things.
The Plants that give themselves to us as nutrients
as well as the Animals that do the same.
The fact that you have a left and a right Brain. A Body and Mind.
That the Sun rises each Day and you're born anew with it in ways.
If we truly give Thanks
for all of these things and more,
our perspectives will enlighten a bit,
and Reality will become wholly Holy;
Holistic:
and we can finally begin, again,
to move on.
Jul 20, 2013
Jul 20, 2013 at 12:12 PM UTC
I feel your strong masculine energy every time you cross my path. You systematically shut down all my
defenses, and hide the key esoterically inside your heart.
I’ve felt a new elevation ever since I said that special prayer.
I began to notice this brand-new hue; the color
wasn’t clear to me at first. This feeling is different than
I’m used to, one that I didn’t understand when we first met.
One day I saw an attractive light, which leads to a
mountaintop high above me. Step by step, I climbed your mountain, with deep ravines and steeper valleys.
Some peaks have tried to block my travels, but I am
making my way beyond your hills.
I want to be born all over again, with you my King,
taking my rightful place upon your regal thorn.
Our souls will intertwine, to complete our sacred mission
from God. We have no choice but to take our place, a place of love that feels just like home.
This trigger “affect” is what’s taking place. You’re the truest essence of my answered prayers. This is not of my time, not
of your time, but in God’s very own perfect balance of power.
Jan 29, 2021
Jan 29, 2021 at 10:20 PM UTC
I read a chapter on beating-heart cadavers
how they lay looking alive
chest rising, blood pumping
but brain not functioning
I started to cry
because once upon a time
you were a beating-heart cadaver
and now I know what comes after
how they probably slit you
from below the belly button
to just under the Adam's apple
practically unzipped you
then systematically took out organs
cutting arteries, clamping things
all the while your face
calmly looking asleep or maybe
hidden under a shroud
despite the initial stomach drop
I realized I couldn't have been
more proud of you
I couldn't have been
any more
proud
Jun 2, 2014
Jun 2, 2014 at 2:33 PM UTC
Bitter sweet,
headlines.
Filtered, censored,
cloaked in, invisible lies.
To keep our eyes,
blind.
Unaware of everything that's
crumbling,
beneath our minimum-wag,e
slave feet.
Systematically, we're made
to fall down
on our knees in defeat.
To **** the ****
of a hard ego.
& The beast, he's always near.
Hiding behind the faces of his diplomats.
Politicians are just criminals, who bought their way out of prison.
Jul 19, 2012
Jul 19, 2012 at 1:50 AM UTC
After spending a few hours trying to fulfil a mountainous list of chores.
I finally arrive back at the apartment block, stepping into the elevator, only just beating the partially closed doors.
I emerge moments later, having travelled past all the other floors.
I enter our abode.
Something is different, what exactly I know not so I instinctively switch into my detective mode.
I am searching through everything slowly, carefully and systematically.
Then my head turns automatically.
That sound??? I think to myself. For a millisecond I am stood still, bolt straight.
Trying to adjust to my now hammering heart rate.
My feet start to move, quickening with every pace.
The look on my face.....
Shock. It's phase and or status: undeniable.
So much so that my balance is now very unreliable.
I have found the sounds source.
It emanates from you. You-I mean OH!-you're p-pleasuring yourself whilst sitting naked upon a rocking horse.
Jan 4, 2015
Jan 4, 2015 at 7:54 AM UTC
Original thought is not knocking at my door. It seems there's very little original thought at all any more.
Put my brain back in storage up on the musty shelf. Seems everything I believe in is learned from someone else.
I just simply repeat back the things I've been taught. Year after year repeating thought after thought.
A collection of opinions, words of others that I spout. Seems the easy way, so I open my mouth and they fall out.
The politicians and teachers and experts and the news. Have radically systematically denied my freedom to choose.
Unwitting copycat and imitator who historically repeats himself. Without a genuine idea, put my brain back on the shelf.
Has everything I've learned and believe and everything I know, produced an unauthentic me, God help me if it's so.
A wealth of original ideas, that would be my kind of wealth. If not take what I've got and put my brain back on the shelf.
May 8, 2018
May 8, 2018 at 7:45 PM UTC
Sometimes I can't fall asleep. I wonder if my brain is physically incapable of shutting off; if the thoughts constantly running round my head and through my arms to my shaking fingers and twitching legs have anything to do with her. I think I was a little bit in love with her, to be honest-- if a fourth grader can be in love. I looked at the yellow spots on her teeth and saw a beautiful birthmark- distinguishing the interesting from the dull and the good from the evil. I observed her frizzy, black hair and deemed it noteworthy to the highest extent, and although I don't remember it, I'd be lying if I said I had never dreamt of kissing her. She was so beautiful to me-- an enigma wrapped in a conundrum with a side of a heightened, fourth grade quandary.
The online counseling center of the University of Illinois defines an emotionally abusive relationship as “brain washing that systematically wears away at the victim’s self-confidence, sense of self-worth, trust in their own perceptions, and self-concept.” I'm not quite sure if I'd label a questionable elementary school friendship as emotionally abusive, but looking back, I could never really figure out what bonded us together other than mothers who enjoyed sewing and a mutual lack of trust. Her deficiency was in herself. I was just cement to fill the gaps.
Currently, my chest feels constricted and my hands are shaking like the revolution inside them hasn't yet been won, and neither the rebels nor the authorities can remember what or who they're fighting for. I think it's the caffeine that set it off, but I wouldn't put it past her to inject the cement with poison and shove it back down my throat like medicine. Maybe that's why I've been having trouble breathing.
Last night, I forgot to brush my teeth. I'm not sure if it was because I forgot or because the long term effects of my iron deficiency finally kicked in. The cement hasn't yet hardened enough to fill the cracks.
Jul 19, 2014
Jul 19, 2014 at 2:13 AM UTC
buying tickets, rip the stubs, hang them on the wall, scrapbook form complete with small pink hearts punched out of the children's cardboard.
gun powder paint, dripped on white mugs, heat-dried, upside down in cupboards that belonged to your grandmother, pour black coffee in the morning and sip.
t-r-i-b-u-l-a-t-i-o-n-s spelled in sign language, on the wall, across photos of sky, clouds raining, lightning flash, blind some farmer, smash some wheat, rip barns into pieces and set one half on top of 18333 sw 32 st.
salt the caramel, lick the spoon and put it in the dishwasher, contemplate the meaning of life, curse god three times because that's a lucky number, write the ****** mary's name thirty-six times across the tile backsplash, latin roots swimming through your head, you only took one year of it.
take wool yarn, knit socks for the kindergarden teacher, put out your cigarettes systematically down the arches, dye them pink, wrap the box in last year's christmas paper, drive four point seven miles to a place that would be better with blankets and closed-tight eyes.
toes say it's a long walk back, so jump the cliff and pray loudly to the seagulls.
Nov 28, 2010
Nov 28, 2010 at 3:54 PM UTC
A broken road beneath a broken sky
A gust of wind that misses the eyes
An old man sings of hope in the shadow
Just before he's struck by lightning and dies
Storm's angry on the world it rules
Rain falls down hard on sand dunes
A lone traveller searching for refuge
Lost inside quicksand thats induced
And a layer of snow befalls a town
wrath of the gods brings blizzard all around
The homeless who searched for home all night
In the morning his frozen body Is found
Rage of the ocean kisses a boat
A tale of terror did unfold
Mother said he was fresh , only a year old
The kid was butchered and his meat was sold
As the earth shook beneath their feet
He had just fallen asleep
The beggar on the road could hardly breath
As he was crushed on the main street
For his life he made a run
But the beast was fast and he was outdone
He was cold and he was numb
It's the beast fault , he was just having some fun
They Say it's a deadly cliff
Cursed by some evil witch
and when a man ends his life
They say its the cliff that killed
Neatly laid garbage crumbs
All around the place , systematically dumped
And when the outbreak hits someone
They say it's the insecsts and we need a gun
Stories from around the world
Different people but the same words
Oh , mother nature don't you care
People are dying everywhere
Stories from around the world
Scratch the surface and see the dirt
Oh , mother nature don't you care
People are dying everywhere
Jan 13, 2014
Jan 13, 2014 at 7:23 AM UTC