Blogging Poetry

New World Savages

Hobbled, shattered knees.

We, the New World Savages,

Crush, Consume, even the dust

left from burned-out tragedies.

The crying children, imagine them,

Blown up and scattered like seeds,

Seeds of death, blossoming

in the fields of wealth, fed

by a stream of consciousness need

for corpulent greed. Oh, but “free”

isn’t free, we’ve chained them,

hobbled, shattered knees.

Only to feed the Machine

that feeds Herd

that eats the Dust

of the Dead

Children.


© CGT, 2017.

 

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