Night-Garden – Philip-Brent-Harris

~~~~~

Here they come, dancing down the lane.
Joyful laughter ringing out loudly, until
Mrs. Croft erupts from her door to glare.
Those beady eyes silenced many before.
Laughter tiptoes past, giggling like bits
of shattered glass beneath scattered feet.
Their soles are not young. History scars.
No longer moving carefully, totally sure,
They race to dive into the murky harbor.
After another funeral, mourners, martyrs

Fill the streets, more weeping every hour.
Smothered by smog, a label of their birth.
Deep gloom most don’t ascend, transcend.
Into searing sun too bright and air too thin,
Hiding hermitically sealed sharp shadows.
Deep twilight wherein smog-dwellers sing.
Muffled, wearing gas masks as they must,
Passion poised, they smile, cry, laugh, love.
Burned by brutal sun, you may live forever.
People in industry’s umber destined to die.

Smog filled people rarely reach the heights,
Though daily offered reasons they should.
Sold schemes shilling sleek sunny rooms,
Spanning stale, stark connecting hallways.
Stalking from sterility into sterility. Safe?
Serviced by robots, androids, mechanicals.
Their rare children crèched or spirted away
Where no laughter or sudden screams will
Shatter the walls, the world, the existence
For citizens convinced they’re still living.

~~~~~

People Over Politics, World Over Wealth!

Peace is Purpose, Nonviolence is Strength,

Diversity is Unity, Empathy is Empowerment

Unite the World!

~~~~~

See more of my creative offerings at:

Philip Brent Harris Fine Art, Digital Art and Photography

Night-Garden – Philip-Brent-Harris