Barren as a blank page. Still, as the poet's sword rusts.
As sad as the solo violinist echoing notes of mistrust.
The apprentice asks: Is there a way out?
Suffering descendants of the virgin Mary's family tree,
are welcomed to Meanwhile where words can get so lonely.
The lexicon asks: Is there a way out?
Is there a way forward?
Truth remains out of focus through the hired cameraman's lens.
24 hour closed circuit politics bewilder blind battery hens.
The terrorist shouts: Is there a way out/
Is there a way forward?
Is there another way?
In rationed desolation the schoolboy's dream still lingers.
No clenched fist will form from nervous, trembling fingers.
The backstreets echo: There is a way out!
There is a way forward!
This is the way.
Follow me................
Capability Red Oct 2016
Saturday, 1 October 2016
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