The Wild

A continent away,

I feel the sway.

Let go the throttle,

and feel the rot.

No Orgy will bind,

the mind of the bound.

Only filth of the words,

with the birds around.

Be careful my friend,

for women will round.

Make a circle, a coven.

To cook you; an oven.

Sing not what collects,

but what shall connect.

Not you, not me,

for we don't make tea.

Look hard in depth,

study not what you've wept.

Write words to a tune,

that will sight you a Moon.

Richness is felt,

when the wealthy do welt.

For the Metals are real,

won in Wars of the past.

Attacked in the park,

it was no lark.

Assigned to the one,

it is time to run.

The pain is to real,

to where what I feel,

is not what I want,

I feel the taunt.

Better off dead,

is not in my head.

This they do chant,

my family they rant.

Passion in your song,

even though you are gone.

Speaking so plainly,

its rough and its training.

The tears that don't flow,

gives strength to my anger.

For rage is my fun,

the Wild is done!!

Karen A. Placek