The country of our birth
Swaddled us at first
With amulets unearthed,
On the Bridge of Rings
Protected by verse and
Nursing circulated words
Designed to strengthen
A calculated succour.
But something went wrong
In the words of the song;
The rings began to throttle,
A rotting curdle clotting,
Until anthems unplugged
In a counterclockwise
Epiglottal vortex drop.
On a yoke of lies we choked
And collapsed, suffocated
By the very state which
For earlier generations
Maintained principles,
Protectiveness.
These words synonymous
Now with stock and broth
For better leaders abroad
To mock. Ours are dressed
In party-patterned frocks
With feathers plucked from
Lame pink pigeon legs
Where eagles nested once.
The continental populous
And associated press join
Lengthy queues for fuel
Of ridicule, and rightly so,
For our leaders heard
Laughter and cheering,
They fuddled and fudged,
Misjudging the thinking,
For the sounds were of jeers,
And a slow, prolonged sinking
Of all we held dear.
I had a dream last night that I was on a tour of North Korea. But it’s a mix of what I saw and embellished a bit. I haven’t lost my phone ☺️ I just thought it would be an interesting ending to blur the dream and reality.
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Oh thank you so much for explaining it to me. I will race and read it again.
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The things described in the dream are things I did see 😬
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I read it again with new eyes. Wonderful 👏👏👏 I could follow it easily when I knew what I was looking at. I hope you didn’t mind me asking. Thanks again 😊
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