money (Remove filter)
Forest Sun
Forest Sun
Laid out to pasture the company doesn’t want us
We got our severance pay then thanked them
Like they thanked us the day they made us sign
We belonged to them then we were slaves
Made to work in the forest cutting down trees
Or in lead mines manually extracting the ore
Many died for it was lethal work out in the sticks
The dead were replaced by new force...
Wednesday 1st December 2021 2:29 am
Recent Comments
Philip Stevens on This Imaginary Life-Part 3 (Nature)
6 hours ago
Nigel Astell on June 2025 Collage Poem: I Watched the Trains Come, I Watched the Trains Go
12 hours ago
Tom Doolan on Poetry Is Pain
17 hours ago
David RL Moore on Too late too late
1 day ago
Rolph David on Love The Light, Embrace The Rain
1 day ago
Uilleam Ó Ceallaigh on The roads taken
1 day ago
Red Brick Keshner on still, the Earth breathes
1 day ago
Marnanel Thurman on The roads taken
1 day ago
Red Brick Keshner on where shadows do not drown
1 day ago
Uilleam Ó Ceallaigh on The Empty Streets of Ego’s March
1 day ago