I wrote this poem last night, when I woke up at 1.30am. The featured image above, is looking up at the Geelong hills north of the town, they are called the “You Yangs”. I suppose my poem below is about, how our politicians, should look up , to see what’s coming down on their heads. This post is for the Weekly Prompt, Photo Challenge: Up <<Click on, to view The Weekly Prompt site…..
Feeding Them Up On Bullets Instead
How hard must we hit the nail
On their heads
Before the white house wooden hearts
Finally count the living-dead
How hard does the rain have to fall
On their heads
Before the farmer’s empty buckets
Only fill via tears from the living-dead
How hard shall the sunshine burn
On their heads
Before the number of extinct birds
Light-up the dark gap between government heads
How hard do crumbling icebergs break
On their heads
Before both polar ice-caps melt
Flooding our storage silos and sheds
The answer my friends, rests
On their heads
Before all the starving arise from earthen beds
Crying out, stop feeding us up on bullets instead
Words, Between the Lines Of Age . Neil Young. Lyrics
Someone and someone were down by the pond
Looking for something to plant in the lawn.
Out in the fields they were turning the soil
I’m sitting here hoping this water will boil
When I look through the windows and out on the road
They’re bringing me presents and saying hello.
Singing words, words between the lines of age.
Words, words between the lines of age.
If I was a junk-man selling you cars,
Washing your windows and shining your stars,
Thinking your mind was my own in a dream
What would you wonder and how would it seem?
Living in castles a bit at a time
The king started laughing and talking in rhyme.
Singing words, words between the lines of age.
Words, words between the lines of age.
Ivor Steven (c) 2019
