Tears in The Crowds, a poem by Elizabeth A Moroz at Spillwords.com

Tears in The Crowds

Tears in The Crowds

written by: Elizabeth A Moroz



A tyrant on a corrupt throne
A sheep about to become a genetic clone
A weary traveller far away from home
A heroin addict on methadone

Graveyards of peace and quiet lament
An ungrateful niece,
Dead bodies in cement
The Biblical Golden Fleece
Friedrick Nietzsche’s torment

We look to each other for strength through the terrain
Some don’t stop to bother when saturated in pain
Like volcanic ash clouds pouring out acid rain
And satanic slash crowds worshipping the insane

I’ll refrain from the point of the story today
With this unintentional darkness so much on display
It’s all about whether you walk the right path the right way
And consider whatever you have to then say

The innocence of childhood refusing to let it go
The recompense of wildwoods as the oldest trees cease to grow
It’s like falling down onto your knees in the pure white snow
And begging for somebody please to tell you where life needs to flow

There’s an angry mob waiting with torches and rakes
And a whole culture of people who make money from being fakes
I could find it quite funny if it weren’t such a terrible mistake
As the day grows less sunny and night begins to break

We wonder this planet just looking for conquests
And plunder this environment in hideous contests
For oil and copper and carbon and gas contents
No wonder the atmosphere has decided to energetically vent

I cannot condone this apathetic approach
To nuclear war keeping alive a cockroach
A subject one wouldn’t even dare to even broach
Is open for discussion when riding in coach

There’s no obvious mechanism for systemic solution
Nor any long term strategy to cut back on pollution
While governments create catastrophe and generate more confusion
The wealthy are eating for free while the poor collide in confusion

There’re legitimate acts of war crimes and genocide
While they distort the facts and cover up what they can hide
Whatever statement retracts, it’s like sniffing fermaldahyde
On the day that your mother and father have died

It’s reality that’s gripping me
I’m not being intentionally depressing
It’s the entropy of the Ignomy, an adult psychologically regressing
All the while the emergency is continually pressing
So close to uncertainty as the criminal is confessing

So send me a blessing while I’m out convalescing
And looking for wounds that need tenderly dressing
Just as hearts need the soft touch of gentle caressing
It’s the collective willpower I’m damn well contesting

So brighten up the perspective lest you drown yourself in fear
And lighten up the corrective concepts that draw near
And hold on to what you have known to hold dear
Because the crowds and the masses are breaking down in tears

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