Tuesday, July 30, 2013

4548. PROTEST

PROTEST
(locked horns)
I cannot shelve the frozen pipe, the arms of a
hundred revolutions  -  guns and ammunition,
screaming of injustice's hordes. Those tanks, now
 lining this sad perimeter, they act as if they had
somehow arrived to see a picture show  -  children,
lined up, to watch the big screen before them. Popcorn
and jujubes, fun and revelry, while before them,
on the field arrayed, people fall and die.

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