The Seeds Of Death. Poem by Graham Jones

Oh! What poor soul was lent to bend an ear upon the wind
To hear the sighs and sorrows of mankind
This mother earth, this ravaged soul
The heart of man as black as coal
That takes and takes returnith not
Upon his ill begotten lot
The flesh of earth, this green of land
Once tinged by Gods almighty hand
Now stained and spoiled and soaked in blood
A mothers tears become a flood
The innocence of childhood dreams
Are tarred and marred by muted screams
What right have we to still draw breath
When all we sow are seeds of death.