Poetry

Who Am I.

written by: LiteralDave

OH in this moment,
So glorious and golden,
So devoid of life and glee.
The adulterous Wench
Kissed the corporate man's hand,
The hands that chop at trees.

These trees that fall
For new factory/malls,
Places where cars can sleep.
Where disease that blows,
From Rose to Rose,
As we Slaughter the Birds and Bees.

OH in this moment,
So withered and frozen.
I found I could not look away,
Guns at thier hips,
With lustful Amens
They fall to thier knees and pray.

They cried and they wailed,
For ways out of bail,
For refilling bottles of whiskey.
To crack open the world,
For Its pride and Its pearls,
And winning numbers, of the lottery.

It is a tale,
For Those who exhale,
The breath of living deceit.
But I do breathe,
Of passionate means,
That means me to forget my way,

Do I stand from the Others,
And point to my Brothers
Calling forth my families shame.
Do I embraced the blame,
A disgrace of Name,
Who am I left to say.