Bera Tremoz

Rookie (01/11/82 - 01/11/2012 / Lebanon)

Rust - Poem by Bera Tremoz

They say it's two thousand
and five and we are still
poverty and misery
and prostitution and hunger
and crime and danger
and diseases and
racism and sexism
and the ultimate humanity
of a hierarchical society
built on steel and living off
Corn Flakes, Marlboros
and Ipods.

They say it's two thousand
and five and we are in the
yet again,
we are to
we are to
trademark it all to death
in the name of sanctified
treachery and illusions
all going live on MTV
tomorrow night.

The rusty side of the coin
is not dying
millions of miles across
the ocean,
it sits there, silent,
having a coffee in the morning
reading or watching
the news
feeling sorry
and disgusted
until it hops on the
holocausting wagons
of sweat and rubber,
and starts a fresh new day
at work.

It's two thousand
and five
and denial
never grows old.

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Poem Submitted: Wednesday, October 19, 2005

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