Iliterate Poet

A dumping ground for my works in progress.

15 Oct 2011

Crass Class and Pluto too.

Bastions of hopeful dreams roam.
March in costumes of skin and bone.
No longer begging Mercy; nor alone.

Scores, scales steeped in pain.
No wheat, just hail in stormy rain.
Think of you crying: we're the same.

Sharing warmth, kindly cuddling kin.
Constructing strength from within. 
Stand by me, as I stand by you: Win.

Hands athwart many seas and lands.
Our swaying voices, suave, heard echoing.
Echoing in corridors of power, verbatim.

Don your stubborn brow, head and heart fixed well.
United in that prisoners' dilemma: no cell, no cell!
Pushing, peacefully pursuing an end to plutocracy.

A hand full of tears, minds full of fears.
The game is real, the gloves are off.
Fair rules before freedom falls; and humanity is washed away.