Dead Leaves as MetaphorsI am watching the wind blow the maple's
Dead leaves across the lawn, not anything
Else. I don't care if the demagogue says
He won't go. The imperial court,
Always there, isn't leaving. Figureheads
Change, but nothing else does.
The empire's jackboots still trample
The planet. Its drones remain flying,
Delivering death, and its blockades continue.
Its prisons are full. These are the things that
The subjects endorse. There's no sign that
They'll ever seek anything different. Now
Old leaves in autumn, they wait on the lawn
For a wind that will blow them away.
Poetry by Lawrence Beck
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Written on 2020-11-17 at 17:25
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