Over time I’ve spent wondering if tomorrow will be a better day, but I know it won’t. I know that the millions of acres being burnt in the forests are reflected by the souls of hundreds more that die for a cause they believed in, but couldn’t see. Where hundreds of people die in their own shell of freedom, and where hope is the only focus for the new dawning sun. I sigh softly and the millions of whispers usher my hand high in the air until my fingers rip my palm wide open, and until the voices stop and a roar of silence shocks I know my eyes will be pierced with a token of love. This may sound cynical. I know. But life is worth more than what a machine can do. Life can bear the fruits of the future, and life can destroy what’s been sowed in the past. Raise your fists for the niggers, the kikes, the gooks, and the honkies, and cry that silent roar once more.
Not sure if I like the poem as a whole but I fucking love this line. Cry that Silent Roar is a wonderful expression. Keep writing. Peace, Aidan.
a fine piece of protest prose ... the kind we wrote back in the 60's when i was a flower child ... the world needs people who care ... people who love ... people who can rise above ... and fight back like my buddies Freakymetalchik & Redyelruc who also posted on this thread ... they're wise far beyond their years ... power to the people dude.
I find myself agreeing with redyelruc. I'm not sure because of that last line. It sounds more like encouragement of racism. But maybe that's how I interpret it. I might be wrong. Unless your talking about cycles of the mind that history repeats itself. Other than that I liked it.
