To be but cattle, or not…: A poem

What makes a leader

a hate breeder?

Clutching at power

Like sepals at a flower

The masses are herded like cattle

The bricks of freedom are all too brittle

Hope’s moon doesn’t shed light

against clouds of arrogance, and goes out of sight

Power is the famine of individual rights

when evil pugilists win the fights

Ego dominates the voice of wisdom

Shades of untruths wall the prison

For power did not respond to justice

After beasts brokered the armistice

And left innocent fields dusted with locusts

Independence was not open-armed but a clenched fist

Their feet are sore, their soles hurt

They are weary, humiliated but

will they kowtow to corrupt men?

Each of them has a choice then…

Published by montecyril

Hi, I am Monte Cyril Rodrigues and live in Melbourne, Australia. I am a retired journalist. I have been diagnosed with schizophrenia. I've had voices and visions all my life. I think it is a spiritual experience, my doctors think otherwise. I am a deeply spiritual person and keep having experiences with otherworldly realms. View more posts