Revolution (a form of love)
is in the air.
The grass insists on growing
in cracks between cement,
the facade crumbles,
euphemisms flow faster, faster,
effort expended to spraypaint
over a more and more stark reality.
I'm not the only one starving
for truth and joy
but burdened by a system
telling us we are always wrong
nevertheless
a seed takes root.
It will grow into courage,
we will break their ability
to oppress us.
YOU ARE READING
Sweeping Winds and Rainbow Beginnings
PoetryThese are a few of my poems. I would prefer to take my time and try to sort the better ones out from the rubbish so it might take me a while to collect. I hope you can stop by and enjoy a poem or several. In poetry (good or bad) we express something...
