Thursday, February 16, 2023

Curse

Can a country be under a curse, 

A few words of malignant verse


Chanted inside a racing hearse?

To hell with superstition!


No man, crowd, or institution

Has turned our nation sour.


The Mind has forgotten the hour

Can grow late


Growing hate,

Like an ocean filling with plastic,


Leaving life crippled and spastic.

The curse is proliferating thought


That the future can be bought

And as quickly taken away —


Only the loudest given a say.

Will the worst curse have its day?