Quiz for the People
Soldiers are here, they've all arrived.
They think no more, they just survive.
They're asked to turn their hearts to stone,
their bodies here, their spirits gone.
No time to cry, they can't express
the grief they feel, their loneliness.
Despair which dances uncontrolled
absconds their minds and leaves them cold.
It's obvious who is at fault,
who benefits from this assault.
Corporacracy, crystal clear,
the golden few who own this sphere.
COPYRIGHT 2005 by Michael Bonanno
LOC Reg. #TXu574 934-647
Reproduction of "Quiz for
the People" or any part
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