Does the Moon forget?

Tinsel on a Christmas tree, plastic people on a toy merry go round

Stilted structures, celebrations ordered by authorities that feared freedom, and the wisdom of the hopeless labourer? 

I have seen the misery in those ordered to: “Stand here, Smile now, do not speak”

A military society more controlled than trained soldiers! Ice minds fearing.

The fat of the land Landlord, “All things bright and beautiful” tyrants acting out the theatre dreams of their fathers, raw meathead brains in the lifeless mud and dust of, The Somme, Passchendaele and Mons.

The poems of, “Superhuman inhumanities” left on the dusty shelf, out of reach of all but Mad hatter, Mad men who know that lies are beautiful.

On the winding road ways of the moon go the silent seekers, never finding, never seen.

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