Alfred Barna

Sands Of Time - Poem by Alfred Barna

Pondering upon the sands of time
There lies the Sphinx
A sojourner who watches the crime
Of how the common man thinks
Relationship to rulers worshipping deaths scepter
Believing to be gods to beguiled by men as they pass by
Like Hatshepsut in the royal tombs which have kept her
The common man must now ask himself why oh why
We build monuments to elites, while they see us as dust
Pyramids now encase them safely from our eyes
In secret they ritual with magic, ordering us to trust
We are but simpletons we unfit to be wise
Yet our labors build their palaces, and serve their content
While we starve and burden since the empires of old
By their grace we grow the food on their land we do rent
Listening to voices of Oz, and how we must do as we’re told
Killing their competition in lands far and near
So their empires grow steady, and our lot grows vile
Upon the bones of our sons and daughters they leer
Yet it is we, who are the true source of their Nile
All “isms” are to be shaken like Osiris, Isis, and Set
Whether priest, politician, or bureaucrat; never let take hold
We must watch the watchers always, without regret
Or as history shall show us that they will take all control
Each man should reap his sowing, let the rulers do theirs
Beware of the man who whispers sweetly of looting our shares
If something should become of nothing, then all work will cease
Never believe in the lies, and let each man have his peace

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Poem Submitted: Saturday, April 27, 2013

Poem Edited: Saturday, April 27, 2013

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