Tiny Poem by Cee Bea

I find you sleeping
behind wrought iron and Oak
a vessel of mans betrayal
behind cold stone eyes
and finely chiseled tears

cold to the touch
colder in heart
nay sayers
and the corrupted tell tales
of heritage
that lock the doors in brazen upheaval

this is a heart's tale
in black and white
that fails all men
hence drowning a dream


all around
bodies lay in waste,
Carnage and blood
ringing in the New World Order

while a tiny little man
in a tiny little place
and his tiny little son
are riddled by
tiny little bullets