POEM: “IS” 

There is so much colour in black and white

In dancing shadows with shade at night

In fire shouting at woods that burn

In sounds of battles that come from the horn.
There is so much silence in how the tide sings

How it woos the shore and clings

To the embrace of stray children

Running away from pain

Even when our picture is not a perfect solution.
Even when our picture is not a perfect solution.

There is a solemn motion in still pictures

And how an unmoved piece structures

the earth in many ways into submission

Even when our picture is not a perfect solution.
There is a Hunter of the vile

Who soon becomes prey to the file

Of slaves staggering to the plough

Of questions like “why should I Bow”?


There are so much lies

Beneath the skies

Especially when we try to purchase peace

With violence as a decorated fleece.

There is a limit to how long this poem goes

A limit to how far it shows

But one thing is true among the lies we tell

There is a Heaven and then a hell


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