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Feral soul amongst the reeds
lying still in stagnant bog
listening to nature’s song
performed by cricket, loon, and frog

hiding from the rage of men
that hunt him for his hue of skin
black as Mississippi mud
though his heart be free from sin

war was waged and war was lost
soldier blue and soldier grey
ghosts that walk the battlefields
knowing not they’ve gone astray

southern pride has turned to hate
for those who now walk freedom’s road
blaming them for northern greed
and burned plantation overload

children once enthralled by sound
of black folk singing in the fields
have grown to men of calloused heart
with crops of vengeance for their yields

so the feral soul lies chilled
with sweat of fear and swampy muck
waiting for the hand of death
while praying for a little luck

dawn may see him on a limb
swaying in the southern breeze
but he vows he will not die
in servitude on bended knees

C. Lon R. Bruso

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Structured: Western
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cultures built on slavery
and the great river width of
wealth and privelidge
servitude and meagre

and always ships and
distant slavery
larger classes

\god is not a socilaist but man
is.....we are raw products machined
and traded....skilled trades fawned
and kept by need

freedom is a vast enterprise
and so is survival
faith and beliefs

and yet the spirit of man
the creative desire to exist
singing dance meditation
is still affordable
and affable in the heart of

but the cruel reality of
mans heart remains
that evil permeating
embedded in culture
throughout history

a few have made a
difference and led
but this poem like
many dreams starts
as a dream

and we all have a

thank you lonnie

I would have thought there would be a few history buffs around here who might comment on this also, but I guess not. Thank you for being the one brave soul to comment on this!

author comment

Am not sure how many years have to pass before man can forgive his fellow man for such things.
We have Irish memories that are 400 years old, though on the other hand we have a treaty of peace with Portugal, that is just as long.
I prefer the peace, but the perpetual way of being taught how wrong we were done by, and the hatred it brings is so bad.
Great write though Lonnie it shows something that is there, yet not there, where the soul of those that have been hurt still remembers, I cannot imagine souls wandering around with such memories of hate, if anything I would hear them shout, "Why can't they hear that all is forgiven where we are now".
Love you young Timer, Yours Ian.T

There are a million reasons to believe in yourself,
So find more reasons to believe in others..

I'm glad you found this piece and left me some feedback, If it weren't for you and Steven, it would have wound up on the undiscovered works list!

author comment

Sorry about the delay, I have been a little busy and somewhat distracted of late but will catch up as soon as possible.
You Have a great Holiday out there, Hug a christmas tree for me..
Yours as always Ian.T

There are a million reasons to believe in yourself,
So find more reasons to believe in others..

It's amazing how quickly people can turn from being trusted friends and companions to vicious murders because of propaganda and deep seated prejudice. How vividly you describe this terrible human condition.

Your poem, so well highlights the horror and fickleness of mankind.

Love Mand xxxxxxx

I know the struggle between North and South has been written about hundreds, if not thousands of times over the years, but I just felt compelled to put my two cents worth in poem!

author comment
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