White Man's Burden Poem by Rhys Owens
White Man's Burden
The white man is born in fire,
That's why he thinks of Heaven.
God is a cold kind of love
That doesn't traffic in vicious cycles.
One man, in one progressive lifetime
That fans himself till death
With the breath of forgotten roles.
If some crazy stuff goes down,
That's the fault of the planet.—
It's gravity that questions itself.
Monday, December 24, 2012
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4/27/2024 6:09:25 PM # 1.0.0.1119
