the land burned and carved again
bought and resold like cheap flesh
trees lost their names in smoke
rivers gagged on the taste of steel
the young men sit with music loud
heads nodding to beats, not screams
the old men stare with dead silence
choking on their own bitter air
billboards rise taller than the hills
casting fake shadows on cracked soil
progress they call it, but not here
just another nail in the coffin
our mothers’ fields turned parking lots
stone replaces where grass once prayed
nobody fights, nobody even listens
the land crucified and left to rot
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Author:
gray0328 (
Offline) - Published: November 6th, 2025 04:44
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 15
- Users favorite of this poem: sorenbarrett
Offline)
Comments1
Some great lines here Gray
"billboards rise taller than the hills
casting fake shadows on cracked soil "
The image painted is not pretty but the poem is. A fave my friend
Thanks Soren I appreciate your feedback
You are most welcome Gray
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