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Ice Cold In Shallow Waters

                                    Ice Cold in Shallow Waters

 

 

 

            We live in a discordant world

Where metaphors of peace,

Battle daily with analogies of war!

In every man and woman tempests rage,

While considering daily their norms,

            (norms that make all;

            Actors and players on stages

            Of rhetoric,

                        And honesty only

                        A periodical form).

 

            The oligarchs of power

Sit sternly in towers of steel,

And their iron filings of tears

They bleed from their eyes

When one of their creed,

Submits a conclusion – the pain

That they wield is too fast;

Fall vacant as space without life.

 

            Their cast iron purpose

They believe to be truth,

Couldn’t be further from the

Human we are,

            And their abuse masquerades

Under excuses of discipline;-

Each story of ‘O’ just a child.

 

            And no-one explains the

Concept of pain to this child,

‘that,’ passed on behaviour by

Lord to disciple, and the bribe of

A cheap after-life.

 

            Their rock iron hearts!

Their rock iron hearts of oppression,

Evoke little in confidence from we,

And failing the imagery of faiths machinations,

Is just how on Earth ‘we’ be free?

 

            Labouring logic are the mediums

Mining the all changed to open caste hearts,

And distance is infinite once more,

            And diapers are full from all ‘we’

Have swallowed;

Choking as children from pyres

Of innocents, victims of conscience no more.

 

            No judge sitting high

With his justified mind,

Can explain to this life any depth

Can say with sincerity,

What sufferance means to a child,

            Sitting there cold the duality

That’s offered;

Excusing as feeble every impassioned

                                                            A heart.

 

A being on high disregarding phenomena,

Empirical studies misguiding his truth;

Setting lonely each heart,

That shows self respect,

Sentencing isolation,-

His life to its death.

 

 

Michael J Waite 25th June 2010.  

◄ Poem to the Unknown Angels

Outside the Window ►

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