I gaze above
The skies are clear
I feel the air
Taste no ozone
I hear the sound
Of chirping gears
It sends me back
In green punk fields
Blue is the sky
Yellow the sun
Red is the dye
The castle dun
In this green world
The grid lays low
Off ridden sword
Peace but a show
Under the sky
Shun by the grand
Little wise guy
Starts to defend
Ideas will come
To the oppressed
The sound of drum
Reclaim the wrest
In the shadow
The tormented
Again will glow
In the sky spread
Up the castle
Blown by the winds
Soon to frazzle
Bye, green punk fields
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Aftershots
PoetryWhen Poetry meets Science Fiction. A series of sci-fi inspired poetry...
