Spun to Death

This modern amoral, truth-spun (Let’s

not call them lies) world, sends me

under the covers, hiding from the daily

talking heads delivering todays

affronts to hearts that still

beat for humanity and brotherhood;

hearts that bleed and crack

open from the onslaught of

cruelty and cowardice, while our

minds consider madness rather than

try to wrap what constitutes

truth around them.

Can we not bless the poor, the

downtrodden, can’t we feed them, heal

them, help them, can we not

remember we are the same, the

same flesh, the same heart, can we

stand for something more than lower

taxes, something more than our selfish

inward islands, for protecting our own

asses and screw anyone else? I am

spun to

death.

by Joan Ellen Gage

JOAN’S LINKS:

BOOKS:

Being human

Spun to Death, poetry and photo-creation by Joan Ellen Gage

Spun to Death

This modern amoral, truth-spun (Let’s

not call them lies) world, sends me

under the covers, hiding from the daily

talking heads delivering todays

affronts to hearts that still

beat for humanity and brotherhood;

hearts that bleed and crack

open from the onslaught of

cruelty and cowardice, while our

minds consider madness rather than

try to wrap what constitutes

truth around them.

Can we not bless the poor, the

downtrodden, can’t we feed them, heal

them, help them, can we not

remember we are the same, the

same flesh, the same heart, can we

stand for something more than lower

taxes, something more than our selfish

inward islands, for protecting our own

asses and screw anyone else? I am

spun to

death.