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Elizabeth Moroz | + Follow Poet |
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Tears In the Crowds

Tears in the Crowds

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’s 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

Copyright © Elizabeth Moroz | Year Posted 2023

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