Where the Ships are Sinking
To the cemetery I go
Where the ships are sinking
Where the dead roll over in their shallow graves
Where the survivors fail to sooth them
In my hand are flowers
But my raging grasp crushes them
Sea of blood
Sea of lies
Seized
Besieged
No one comes through
Where the ships are sinking
Where hope is not a can of Coca Cola
Where a tempest is rising out of the ashes
We wait
We wait
We wait for a word
Whether good or bad
Weather good or bad
We are ready to go
To the cemetery
I hope to never rage in the name of the dead
But heros incarnate in the direst of situations
So we sing their names
And regret their martyrdom
And the ships come in
Where the ships are sinking



direct
By Petridis, Athanasios at Jun 10, 2010 17:34 PM
A very direct poem, full of painful allusions. We still think we can make it to the shore but in all likelihood we are already sunk, dead corpses in a wet grave. This may sound pessimistic but if there is a chance to ever rise above the current situation it will have to happen only upon acknowledging and understanding the awfullness and depsration of our predicament.
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