the land that was once mysterious is threatened from within…
unrest sweeps through the countryside
and fear and uncertainty loom in the air
these are the valleys of paranoia
flags of red, armies of green,
how much more bloodshed remains to be seen?
snow capped mountains and skies blue
in every river, blood seeps through.
no one takes note and they couldn’t be bothered
while on rugged and barren fields, villagers are slaughtered,
and life for the people is a continuous struggle against death
gone is the peace, so is the calm
that once captivated and charmed
in the valleys of paranoia- a gun shot here, a gun shot there
in the valleys of paranoia- a few deaths here, a few deaths there
democracy, hypocrisy, monarchy
it’s all the same…
military, citizen or revolutionary
it’s time we all shared the blame…
in these times of worry and fear
the people pray on the terraced slopes
for with the Gods, rest their aspirations and hopes.
and while the bloodshed continues
there are no signs of a likely truce
the common man worries about his daily bread
the morning news reads, ‘thirteen injured, four dead.’
3 comments:
Nice poetry. With the kind of policies like the Iraq war being followed, it should be mountains of paranoia.
Brilliant piece of work. There's a whole lot of truth in those words and its real sad.
hey pods,
good shit man... liked it. a small advice. you can start the poem downside up... with morning newspaper thing at the beginning and then narrating it.
i mean i am talking about the concept. change the flow and make a bit stark is what i would say. the topic is awesome.
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