MURDER, POLITICS, AND THE END OF THE JAZZ AGE
by Michael Wolraich
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Neda's Song
By Joe Wood on Sun, 09/05/2010 - 7:45pm |
The streets
So crowded
Like some
Revived ancient fleet
Swept back from the dead
A bell came ringing
Like a telepathic human alarm sounded
I saw numbers in the street
Painted bright red
I saw the monkey's head--
Cut off, by it's feet
Like a full scale family reunion from Tabriz
Or like the sound of 16,000 dreams
Or,
Like a drowning country
Could breathe
Wrists
Floating the sound of pulsing green lighting mist
A mysterious trumpet was bleeding
With slashes of freedom,
Like a hammer that found itself writing
The heart of the city was pounding hard
As the claws of a two-headed lion
Was fighting
And reading
The ringing of the bell, awakening
The sea
Like a gigantic statue, moving
Shards of glass and fire
As the people roar
And as the streets were swept
It grew late
While the land was still singing
Marg Bar Dictator
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