Over The Hills And Far Away

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    Over The Hills And Far Away


    The stream of time is flowing through our arterial community
    It’s pressure bloats your sense of security
    While the acts of patriots become the maneuvers of murderers
    Only time will tell how the pages of hastily scribbled truth
    Will be understood by the survivors of our selfish greed
    We dance round the may pole with our children’s dreams
    And squander the fair mother earth with our plundering hands
    Ripping her fair skin with our mechanical daggers
    Tearing her soft luxuriant mounds with our toothy lacerations
    Watching her bleed into your blood bath
    While you bathe in the wealth of their poverty
    Stroking your political erections that salute the perverse criminals that you breed
    Herding the people into the concentrated holiday fema camps of death

    Build the funeral pyres of our exhausted love
    Let the shotguns cut down the peaceful dove
    Take my heart and eat it for your sacrificial rites
    And then we will journey into the dark night
    You and I will be united within our circle of desire
    And your mind will feed on the fleshy fire

    Take care your creativity may become the gleaming vehicle of self destruction
    As we fall again into the mire and the impoverished childish dreams of barbed wire

    But heed the stirrings in the primeval swamp
    The genetic echo of the manifestation of the first breath
    Like the tight grip of death
    A cold stab in your heart
    That makes you stop and start
    Trashing around as the strings pull your schema apart
    Penetrate the description that keeps us in the dark
    Illuminate the path where the fallen ones descended from their space-ark
    The truth lies hidden in plain view
    And order forms out of chaos
    As we march silently into the screaming abyss

    I really have to laugh from atop of this hill oh so far away
    I see the mists are forming and there is a breeze that now cools my brow
    Ahhh I see you are a traveler…………..


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    tennessee commented on Over The Hills And Far Away

    03-11-2009

    Intense, eerie, truthful, insightful, scary. I like your writing. Movement. I was moved. Visions so causticly vivid. Hopeful...and I hope you write more.

    Poetry is not an expression of the party line. It's that time of night, lying in bed, thinking what you really think, making the private world public, that's what the poet does.

    Allen Ginsberg (1926-1997) U.S. poet.

    HawkZ’s Poems (4)

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