Rise

In a nation crippled by western decadance, Oceans away from another festive season, Where the wondering wind demands its chance, The voice of vengeance rises in urban slums, Marches through the cities under freedom's drum. Argentina, clenched in the IMF's fist, A belligerent beast enforcing an iron rule, Preying on the masses like a cancerous cyst, Feeds fire to the hungry and watches them spit ash, Then stabs a burning spear into the bloody gash. But from the ground a beat that fills these rulers with dread, Fuel for a flame in the corrupt halls of power, In throes of despair the word of rebellion is spread, Decrying death as better than a life of poverty, Revolt in the streets and a fight for equality. The overthrow of one spineless puppet is not the end, This system's sickness is its capitalist doctrine, But the people have drawn a line which will not bend, No call for calm will quell their demand for change, And they will rise in unison when the wind comes again.This is for the brave people of Argentina who at the end of last year, during the festive season revolted against the brutal forces of capitalism as promoted by the IMF and enforced by a corrupt govt. While no concrete change was achieved (yet - it is ongoing) they have sent out a strong message. feedback about poem: Lines 4 & 5, stanza 2. Should i use what i have written here or: "Feeds nails to the hungry and watches them spit blood, Then rejects all blame for the ensuing flood." Written January 23rd, 2002 © on Jan 23 2002 01:51 PM PST    10 • 0 • 9