The Boiling of the Pot

Poem by: Graeme Montrose

Summary

a poem about governments and change

Content

Submitted: April 17, 2011

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Content

Submitted: April 17, 2011

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The Boiling of the Pot
 
All things change they say
But always from below 
The top does never want to change 
It likes its lofty peak
 
Man’s governments and kingdoms rise
Eventually they fall
Decadence and greed do rot
Corruption everywhere
 
Power a drug insatiable 
Lust and greed its kin 
Rotting and corrupting all
While hidden from our view
 
Eventually the stench will tell
No perfume then can hide 
The thin veneer that hides the rot
Will peel and fall away  
 
With boiling of the pot we see 
The scum floats to the top
So with the governments worldwide
The scum sticks to the top 
 
Winds of change are everywhere
Poverty lights the flame
We see it spread from shore to shore 
Like dominos one by one 
 
And yet from all we see each day 
The truth is not made clear 
More there is than meets the eye
Much is still unclear 
 
The unseen hands that guide the flames
The arsonist as well
The secret counsels we don’t hear
It’s all a game to them
 
The media is their powerful tool
But not so free they be 
They work agendas of their own
The truth is not in them
 
A little honesty they do put
Enough to lure the fool
The masses at their box absorb
It’s sweetly coated lies 
 
The world will change we all do know
The governments will fall
Borders change and seats of power
Yet still the deprived loose 
 
It’s not the poor who profit there 
It’s not the labourer small
Just greedy men who change their seats
Like playing musical chairs
 
They lust for power and wealth you see
And history tells it all 
Blind we are, we do not see
The games that they do play
 
Mugbe we did praise one time
Now take a look at him
Dictator after dictator
Are placed to play their game
 
With one hand we do put them in
The other takes them out
It matter not! The game’s what counts
Their just expendable pawns
 
As one falls down another comes
As evil as the first
The end result will be the same
The poor just loose again
 
Freedom is a name we use
We wave it like a flag
Though it exists in books and songs
It’s not in fleshly lands 
 
A word it is, a symbol clear
A flag as I did state
It stirs the heart of men with hope
But it’s used to kill and slay 
 
True freedom is within the heart
No nation owns your soul
One day perhaps it will exist
But not from bombs and guns
 
Killing is what man does well
You read it every day
But love and hope one day will reign
And sorrows pass away
 


© Copyright 2016 Graeme Montrose. All rights reserved.

The Boiling of the Pot

Status: Finished

Genre: Poetry

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Status: Finished

Genre: Poetry

Houses:

Summary

a poem about governments and change
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