The Tomb
by David Lester Young — Read all 1,103 poems by David Lester Young
The Holidays put me in a room, womb, tomb mood a lone; where America says it cares, then proceeds to dump on you. We have become a nation of Bounty Hunters, where politicians take, take, take as robbing hoods. Then hire bounty hunters to hunt down civilians as a policing force. All this to make America sunservient to their elite wishes.
This does have nails that nail the coffin doors closed to the room womb tomb coffin, invisible prison.
Saturday, December 25, 2021
Tis empty room of American presence
Breathing lone womb past present sigh
God Bless America been vanquished chill
MedUSA turing stone cold Christianity
Conservative Master enslaving nations.
They say they care, they lied ass politicians
Enriching themselves as Crass dew master
The grave yard that has become Our existence
Where to survive, we create room tomb womb
And wait for heaven redemption that will save U.S.
Merry Christmas has become this Humbug thing
Yes Santa, they won, leaving US within coffin hope
One remembers, this passion for Love, thy neighbor
Today bounty hunters turn them in, for their booty
Got to hide in thy tomb, lest they catch sight of thee.
But then jail, would be an improvement, upper caste -
Tomb.
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If criminal justice does not reach them, their conscience and the following Grim Reaper will make sure that their body or ashes will be securely entombed.
Ron