Fire rains beyond dirt-spattered glass,
a window into a hell we thought would never come to pass.
Instead with a toppling of governments to debt,
our only hope now is to one day forget.
Through columns of black-pluming orange and red,
is the electric rainbow of neon-pocked lead,
and down on the streets the fearless ones loot,
ever on look-out for a gun and blue suit.
What little Humanity yet still remains,
is swallowed by the chaos of fear and great pains,
as millions lie dead or else stubbornly defying,
their ticking clocks, their loved ones crying.
Somewhere deep in the middle of it all,
is a group of rich men getting richer off the fall,
but what will it matter once the last poor-men pass,
to be the one with piles of gold beneath the ass?
For civilization, society, economics,
are human endeavors requiring strong tonics,
of human sweat, blood, and labor,
and cannot exist if you are your only neighbor.
So remember, dear mister, it’s not only us,
you damage with your greed’s sadistic fuss,
but yourself and those you might love too,
for even the most hardhearted of hearts finds love anew.
Still that fire-rain does persist,
and I must wonder who it is you have missed,
or lost within that lead-pocked neon,
that has iced over your heart for such an eon.
But even if no answer I receive,
I’ll never do you the disrespect to deceive,
I’d rather resolutely just shake my head,
and hope you find it before you’re dead.
So that one day that fire-rain,
can break for sunshine, like happiness your pain,
and together you and I might meet ‘neath the glow,
of neon-lights with humanity to sow.
Wordsmith of Sol 