What To Dew

You cry to know that the tears are the salt that must come from the earth.

You taste the wealth of your pain.

As the tear drops roll with know name.

A memory in Vain.

Dew is in the morning, the earth must have a third eye.

Does she also find the time and cry?

Ripped inside and driven by you on her turf,

the air in the outside vein must wash her from her own tame.

Wild at a monstrous birth, we dig for the evidence in her girth.

We dismember Pharaohs from their graves,

laughing at all of their sage.

You have moved not Kings nor Slaves,

you only became men of robbers, thieves and graves.

How sober the moment it must come in fist,

the day you die and pay for this,

remember that myth is only hist,

for they are the ones who paid for twist.

Wash your face, cleanse your mind,

for you are the ones that go in nine.

Your mind is only a simple syne,
to know regardless of design,

that it will be mazed by time, regardless wealth.
They will find, the ones that have been left behind.

A royal wealth of a higher kind,

sweeps into all that mine.

Guilt will be left for you,

fingerprints and judgment too.

Pyramids desire not,

spin and see your handy trot,

looking from the after life,

meet you in your own strife.

Dating for, 

December whore.

2011, 21st,

I will see you all, in your own Hearst!!

Good luck you will need it first.

Karen A. Placek
4/21/2011