Deep Karpe Poems

The cold is seeping, the trees are weeping
Into this world of broken vines
Has come a wind of freedom...
The creak of knees...and shadows tripping
...

There's revolution in the air
And rebellion in the rock
The posh language of freedom
Is used in every talk
...

The world seems strange,
Does it not?
To every man I meet
This question I ask
...

Rip out that old building
Lock up those mad preachers
You've got to hide yourself
From the professors and teachers
...

Soft sand on soft hands
Warm water on small hands
Blue sky and dark sky
Sun on water floating by
...