Pale Green-Pitch Black, A Poem
This poem is related to a field trip I experienced in Eastern Europe, 2012
I searched a way
To relieve the broken hearted
However no sight of a plague
That could be cured...
Souls nailed to death
Pale green, pitch black
Far as the eye can see
There are popular hearts
Playing the trumpet
Thumping out lies
Belly laughing...
Towards the kind spirited
Pale green, pitch black
Their mind is cracked
From disfunction, neglecting
They control each lie
With their wallets...
They smile with their ribs
Pale green, pitch black
Villagers like book shelves
You cannot read a book by it`s cover
Piled dirty history, shame
Who wants to know what has past?
No time for what was, is or will be
Pale green, pitch black
No one wants to know your story
Yet, they may cry for a motive...
Perhaps you have some gold
Locked down in themselves
Who wants to watch a trailer drama
Over, and over again?
Just mute, or turn off, your better off
Pale green, pitch black, a society gone fungi.
©Copyright Pearlmacb 2012. All Rights Reserved.