No cause is sought

aristo

 

I’ve just returned to the grey land

 

where they’re dreaming of things;

 

ruined trenches, lashed with rain

 

Spilling jealousies and sorrows

 

where truth fails

 

as guilt is not challenged

 

Aristocrats who made it happen

 

still fake the people;

 

sitting in fire lit homes

 

with little bread

 

no man to earn it, any more

About Lindsay Craik

Writer & Poet Poetry, plays and short stories
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