Unfortunate Lives

In a state of comatose.

Benign facts struggle to the surface.
Deflected off weak minds.
Ready to move on in ignorance.

Stricken is a face in the mirror.
Lost as to human nature.
Coming to grips with mortality.
Broken is their every gesture.

Trampled are the feelings of those.
Less fortunate hyper beings.
No wonder thoughts go undetected.
High tech sonars having glitched.

Boasting of lighter days.
When parks were full and green.
When children ran and played.
The only sound now is silence.

Smiles are permanently fixed in place.
Never to catch a inner glimpse.
What's left to salvage.
When there isn't a heart left in sight.

Tea parties and pretty gowns.
All a mesmerizing facade.
Masquerades and ball room dancing.
No toes to be trampled on.

Peace is their motto.
Everlasting, blissful peace.
How easy is one to be fooled?
Having been fooled by the foolish.

A prism of light reflects dimly.
Bouncing off an unfortunate face.
Chains are slowly breaking.
The ice is finally melting.

We are the fortunate ones.
Being chosen by our chooser.
Saved by our champion.
Living now in true peace.


Copyright 2010 Lauren Hall ©

Nay Mair

Piercing sounds reflect poorly.
Radiating the now lost souls.
Hear the howling night folk.
They cry for what they do not know.

Recompense for past dues.
Signature of the forgotten.
Line upon lines hidden.
Too far in the distant past.

Taking back what is not theirs.
Only loveliness is left untouched.
Left for others to admire.
Strength beyond words unspoken.

Hear now the night fowl whisper.
Unwanted personages crawl in dark.
Their ward tossed to the wolves.
Scavenging for new livelihoods.

Hear, hear you begotten ones.
Told in the distant present.
We will shine upon the wicked.
Naught shall change our course.

Singings sung in lies.
Woven is their tempests snare.
Heeding what is unspoken.
Unlikely to break the spell.

Truth being our only ally.
We wait for this freedom yet.
Covered in unholy mire.
Waiting to be cleaned once mair.

Treading on weakened ground.
Unsteady our heads become.
Lightened this way soon will be.
When he takes back his rightful ward.

In silence we now wait.
The harshness of bitter words brittle.
Beating our ever beaten backs.
They will strike us nay mair.




Copyright 2010 Lauren Hall ©