What Land is this By Robert Fullarton

What Land is this

By Robert Fullarton

Copyright Robert Fullarton 2017

What land is this?

A foreign world

I beckon to,

To which I knew so long ago

I do not recognise

this ruin

This plastic, stretched mould

Of rot and brutality

Under your noses

You hounds of liberty

Lose all for a paltry

Fight like bold children

For the scraps of food

That fall to ground

Invisible actors

Unknown to burly strong men

Beyond pawns of the marching dead

Beyond the blood flow of cash

And billionaire dynasties

Are the monster tricksters

Of ancient evil

Still at work behind the differing systems

Of man’s cruelty in mass ignorance

After the earth was cracked

And smashed to dust

By the millionth cataclysm

You people of the marching dead

Lost heart, and sank to accept

The belittlement of life and love

When the believing heart had dimmed

And the arms of mercy were withdrawn

What land is this?

Having ceased to be my home

My head and heart is in another world

Forgive me so

For I cannot help but dream

As the endeavour of the weary man

Rises with a leaden weight

From heavy waters

But with high aspirations to above

I too have dreamt these dreams.

Amen