The Problem of Morals
The Problem of Morals Vision and sound Thwarted to be A collection of tools To manipulate me The oil in the hands Of brown evil men In poverty’s caves Don’t deal there and then So take take and take Take and pretend That without such a war Our nice lives could end And kill anyone Who gets in the way Who sees the harm? What does life matter When wealth underground Can make us yet fatter?
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Darius
I'm into poetry that flows through me, more as an emotional art-form than a traditional construction, but I do appreciate most of it.
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