The old skeletal remains,
lying scattered on the ground,
retain untold chronicles
of this once booming ghost town.
The renegades’ jarring roars
can still be heard at the eminent noon,
while the butt ends of cigars,
gather outside the town’s saloon.
But the government’s Trojan horse,
to pave the forsaken,
ignites the public outcry,
and leaves the people shaken.
The active citizens’ protest
sparks a bloodless revolution.
But the advocates lose interest;
The new mall’s the resolution.
Big Business triumphs again!
Big Business triumphs again!
When will it all finally end?
(March 23,2007)
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem