Saturday, 16 July 2016


It's burning out there,
Where angels whisper,
"After hardship comes ease,"
To those who see the ease,
Hard to come by.

The sun smothers us, 
But orchids falter,
And Spring never returns,
To those leaving one civil war,
For another. 

Breathe the dying breeze,
Where the blood has barely dried
Before it's spilt again,
Where holiness is disavowed 
And power is the prime commodity 

We're busy with debt, 
So apathy turns the screams 
Into whispers
And for the less human,
Into background noise. 

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