Friday, July 24, 2015

On my own dime

The stars know
the patterns glow
the roots must grow
after the rain

the seeds have been lain
upon the fields
that were barren plains
that once did yield

one at the gate
almost too late
was a pass handed over
though unplanned, it was fate

Yet still navigated
through the pendulous chill
and the compass was negated
by the inquisition still

when fighting for survival
is seen as but a crime
not entitled to revival
I'm on my own dime

The trouble of we

I'm finding it disturbing
all the chronically ill
I'm seeing things, unnerving
they bring with them a chill

when I see all these people
with hospital bags
of saline
running through their veins

I think; what in Gods' name
is causing such a thing ...

and there's many more pining
out in the rain
and there's many begging doctors
to acknowledge their pain ...

it's a dangerous game
in this archaic system
objectivity is scarce
and with this bears a victim

unbiased research
is afar and a tease
and will only draw nearer
when millions scream:

and they'll scream
and they'll scream
and how many will fall
before the greedy redeem
and respond to the calls

as of today
if you're seriously ill
mainstream science is behind
and you'll often be in danger, still

unless you buy you're way out
to safety via new machines
that are most accessible
to the kings and the queens

so they mortgage their houses
and get into debt
or they perish in numbers
and the dirty truth is swept

the very nature of
this environmental disease
I feel it holds the key
of what is really

if this truth was set free
it would expose
and the state
of the earth
and in so
the trouble
of We

-N.M. Rose Guedes