Through the forest and roots of rapture’s curse
shedding the manacles of man’s ownership,
the spirited soul of the sown earth
will spoil the wick of man’s cracked whip,
and milk the soil to freshen the lips.
Those that now reside in rich man’s quarter
on gated clouds and gusset furlong strips,
this plight of affluence’s daughter
nostalgically held in greed’s homage grip.
Stories from the earth plough the haunted hill
in midnight,s shine of tapered night,
inspired by the royal actor’s fateful zeal
his death gave darkness that glimpse of light,
o9n lands in view of God’s internal sight.
In death’s servitude will man ever be free
when blessed with inequalities trite,
we dig the common lands stewing the seed
until mustard stars greet our passive fight.
MJ DUGGAN.
