23 March 2012

Poem for the Blind 12

The devils dream of empire lands
The fury of our maker's hands
An angels wings can spread for miles
A song that grows undoes our whiles
It washes earth to grow thru warm
Then takes to root to fight the storm
Consuming all becomes the wild
As liberal as any child

Shadow of poison minds
Dying both roots and vines
Cutting with bloody lines
Walls of stone in the deep
Tragedy made to keep
When time began to sleep

Simple of their deadly ways
Colder of the brightest days
Haven of the longest stays
Passion of the oldest craze
Only will their hatred raze
Science of an empty phrase
Murder in the deeper maze

Confessions in a cell
Repression forest hell
The ocean starts to swell
You cannot sell your soul
The mind cannot control
There isn't any toll

Above and far below the skies
The shadow doesn't harm the spies
The sound of light becomes the charm
The force of thought induces harm
When water in the poison stills
Eludes even the coarsest wills
Wildest is the loudest stance
Hardest is this deadly dance