Tears In The Crowds

Tears in the Crowds

A tyrant on a corrupt throne

A sheep about to become a genetic clone

A weary traveller far away from home

A heroin addict on methadone

Graveyards of peace and quiet lament

An ungrateful niece,

Dead bodies in cement

The Biblical Golden Fleece

Friedrick Nietzsche’s torment

We look to each other for strength through the terrain

Some don’t stop to bother when saturated in pain

Like volcanic ash clouds pouring out acid rain

And satanic slash crowds worshipping the insane

I’ll refrain from the point of the story today

With this unintentional darkness so much on display

It’s all about whether you walk the right path the right way

And consider whatever you have to then say

The innocence of childhood refusing to let it go

The recompense of wildwoods as the oldest trees cease to grow

It’s like falling down onto your knees in the pure white snow

And begging for somebody please to tell you where life needs to flow

There’s an angry mob waiting with torches and rakes

And a whole culture of people who make money from being fakes

I could find it quite funny if it weren’t such a terrible mistake

As the day grows less sunny and night begins to break

We wonder this planet just looking for conquests

And plunder this environment in hideous contests

For oil and copper and carbon and gas contents

No wonder the atmosphere has decided to energetically vent

I cannot condone this apathetic approach

To nuclear war keeping alive a cockroach

A subject one wouldn’t even dare to even broach

Is open for discussion when riding in coach

There’s no obvious mechanism for systemic solution

Nor any long term strategy to cut back on pollution

While governments create catastrophe and generate more confusion

The wealthy are eating for free while the poor collide in confusion

There’s legitimate acts of war crimes and genocide

While they distort the facts and cover up what they can hide

Whatever statement retracts , it’s like sniffing fermaldahyde

On the day that your mother and father have died

It’s reality that’s gripping me

I’m not being intentionally depressing

It’s the entropy of the Ignomy, an adult psychologically regressing

All the while the emergency is continually pressing

So close to uncertainty as the criminal is confessing

So send me a blessing while I’m out convalescing

And looking for wounds that need tenderly dressing

Just as hearts need the soft touch of gentle caressing

It’s the collective willpower I’m damn well contesting

So brighten up the perspective lest you drown yourself in fear

And lighten up the corrective concepts that draw near

And hold on to what you have known to hold dear

Because the crowds and the masses are breaking down in tears

Copyright 2023 Elizabeth Moroz