The Complaint

Spirit of the wise I have come to offer wine Not from a sacred heart But from the voice of a troubled soul. Spirit of the wise I come with my gift Not to be given But to be consolidated I come with the plight of my friends Whom were earlier yesterday To have taken the oath of the pen But are late already without the promise And pride of their achievements I come with grimace of my youths Who are dying in ecological poverty And economic misery The heart is penciled with the flames of death The very death caused by our politicians Who through many promises have created The world that must not exist I come with the pains of my inability To tell our big friends that they are political liars I come to take a gong To gather them That the restless spirit may find rest.