Amos Christopherson Poems
Comments about Amos Christopherson
My Voice, What If No One Is Hearing It!
We will be taken captives of the rebellion demands
Bloodshed pictures are forcibly grabbed from our hands
Burnt and then later are perfumed
So as out there rottenness may still while zoomed
smell as glamorous sugary rose flowers stooped
The weak beggars, the one-eyed, the gawky needy
The crippled, and the poor suffer a lot
Our voices are echoed back at our hearing so dainty
We are hushed by men of embezzled fiat
No one will ever rise to our uplifting
O my voice, what if no hears it
When shall this ever end I ask?
We have lost confidence...
Behind The Blind Mind
You said the man you talked with is blind
But he pointed out fingers to someone he's then unkind
You talked with a blind person
But he can give someone poison
You said he walks kind and tender
But cannot you accept as true he's a pretender