Mute, no voice to roar
Blind, no eyes to scan
Silence streaking skies
What is TRUTH to man
Waters rage and flood
Fires ignite and burn
Hurricanes rip and tear
Yet humanity will not learn
Power lines down
Sewage in the streets
Without comfort
Where like minds meet
Bloody rituals riot
Babies on the block
Great shakings of sorrow
Makes flesh rock
Meaning is futile
Purpose is pompous, vain
Living in process
Makes the lucid, insane
Wondering about happenings
No step emerges from the void
Not depressed or hopeless
Just excruciatingly annoyed
Written by Trudy Schrader on 10-05-2022
I hate phony shows of misspent faith
From people rich and above the poor
Focused hate for the ones who make
Yet always seeming to want more
Helpless despair as I hear the news
Of another group saving some whales
While every day little children die
‘cause there’s no one to unload the bales
A critical eye cast to our leader
Who welcomes the criminal and cast-out
While huddled alone in a cardboard box
A young man views Christmas with doubt
Violent shakings of the unstable ground
From the bombings that rumble on
Viscous bolts of tax-payer missiles
Striking ground before the dawn
Whistling winds from the bullets above
Such violence inflicted upon the ground
These are but simple, symbolic signs to me
Of the rage I feel from all around
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