Cutting Them Down Poem by jodde taylor

They cut them down,
to pull them back up
these people, of memories
these humans, with hearts.

Left to the, side wallk,
left to the sand:
soaked so long in vinegar,
it melts, through their threads.

Strewn, like garbage
a face with, no name
just a simple man digging,
to live without shame.

A human being, a human being
a person of substance,
with something to leave
a cosmic complextion,
that's so hard to please.

Veins toil,
as a persons life, slowly boils
they cook them with, lies
then take away, all they inspire.

A pig on a poke,
skin with sun stroke:
burn, burn, burn that man down
take away, every memory,
which helps him sleep,
without sound.

A cold dreaded nightmare,
a smoking inhale,
the cold face of humanity
drifting in pales.

Rain, rain, rain on the man
until he is pissing,
all through, his dry pants
while jingle bells is hissing
and he's lost his last pair.

Leave him there,
broken and ruined,
you've already taken
his fine sense of humour.

The chains, are not broken
no freedom is found,
he lives as a recluse,
so he can, never be found.

You've pushed him away,
because he once spoke his mind,
beneath a delusion,
that democracy cries.

You've cut him down so far now!
he has no time to cry,
not for the loses, you've stolen,
from a heart, which once lived with pride.

You've cut of his feet,
so he will never walk again
but he still carries a smile,
because, he knows he's not dead:
just a pawn, in the den of all misplaced men.