Blood Upon The Moon

Poetry is far behind me now:
I have lost the gift of music,
the memory-hidden silences.

That place where once I lived, in
glory, is occupied: by
cruel forces of the invasion.

The armies of the ignorant
twitch, and kneel:
they leave their blood upon the moon.

©Dean Baker

©All Rights Reserved deanbakerpoetryandsongs.com

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©Dean Baker

©All Rights Reserved deanbakerpoetryandsongs.com

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