POEM Our precious soil, betrays our innocence How many more Must perish Souring over our barren land? Undeserving of so precious Blood We are! Of so graceful Creatures ...they adorn our skies and cry their last desperate sorrows for the bigotry of its inhabitants and their bizarre gods of gore and limestone and euro orgies of smoky, petrified incense as they kneel in front of HE whom they claim to adore. How many more Must perish Souring over our barren land? As the exchequer squambles over another excuse With his peers He jokes over how great he is In his infinite wisdom And his children look for A morrow where feathers are Nothing but Exhibits in classroom books Hailing from days gone by... And deep within each soil granule So miniscule, insignificant Lies the blood of them... The souring angels, Up above... Ray de Bono 9th March 2010 He/she who wants to understand, let him/her understand... ...........................................
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