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May 15th, 2017 
Awake Goy Dial D for Dead
dissidentvoice.org
By T.P. Wilkinson
Do they even
With their WLAN
Sitting beside
The fresh melded earth
Talk or text
The dead
They miss?
I wondered
As I whiled
Within the walls
Of the weary
And the lost
Beneath the stones
The grass
The wilted flowers
For fresh they could
No longer ask.
Or was it that
The whispering wind
The sombre sun
Upon that soil
That told those youth
I counted six
To touch their screens
And feel their hearts
If flowers for this grave
Were still worth
Their toil.
View the original article at dissidentvoice.org
Posted in Analysis & Review.
– May 14, 2017
Source Article from http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/DarkPolitricks/~3/Rj5z2wDicHk/
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