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Slaves of wages for generations long forgotten in history’s screenplay. Each hand for a moment has held the torch. The people are waiting in lines. All toilers have resisted. All skins have felt the blaze of blood. The people are waiting in lines. While trash still clutters the streets, while starving stomachs roam like rabid dogs. The people are waiting in lines. Our tears have been cleaved and parceled, sold like floodplain to the blind by corporate politicians, while the people are waiting in lines. We are lured to live among the cushions, to rest here where the river rises. No markets can be called free while hosting inequality. The people are waiting in lines. We medicate to escape, numbing to the barbarization. No economy can be called just without democracy. The people are waiting in lines. We shall watch for clues. We will know the signs. Every torch shall rise. The people are waiting in lines. Published: Dissident Voice, August 2, 2020

Copyright © | Year Posted 2020

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Date: 6/30/2020 8:01:00 PM
while i wait i anticipate that too many will debate just how we should relate to demonstrate the fate that every heart awaits....i am feeling this thomas....
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Thomas Wells
Date: 7/5/2020 2:39:00 AM
Hello Eric, Sorry to take so long to reply. What wonderful reflection you offer about this poem! I believe that day will come sooner than we think. Thank you so much! PAX, my brother!