With a massive pressure water gun, That is how they want us To succumb; with force They think we will bow down or run! A 1600s massacre was the maker; A tradition built by bloodshed, Yet giving Thanks then: Not Enough! Now again! Acre upon acre upon acre…
Posts published by “Carla Luzmila Pozo Insuasti”
I feel the melodic song Of that northern wind Saying to me, “the time has come To wake from the trance,” And with a lump in my throat I pick up the pieces; Organize them according to value And dispatch them all at once. Because a pain stirs…