Tuesday, 3 November 2020

poem 169

kill in the name of todays new king 

told of his wings but never of the strings 


While at school they make your child 

sing blind to the shining glory of him 


As your mother placed into a pauper grave 

the priest proudly said she sinned anyway  


All but to young and as slave cruelly aged

no pity found, in those factory owners eyes


For there told, they stand so very wise

before that kings, human trained brain 


And all the profits you made, just pathed 

rhodes of cold stone to their stately home 


Now each day as their taught to pray 

all they enslaved leads to the gates of eden 



https://www.theguardian.com/world/2020/nov/02/uks-vaccine-taskforce-chief-shared-sensitive-documents-in-us-report-says They kill in the name of wealth 

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